


NOVA

by cupcakeriot (the_cupcakeriot)



Series: NOVA: The Series [1]
Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Aliens Believe In Soulmates, F/M, Sci-Fi, don't ask me, inspired by star trek 2009
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 149,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29649441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_cupcakeriot/pseuds/cupcakeriot
Summary: The early 27th century - a young omnilinguist gypsy girl who creates visions with her li'lute, an alien bio-weapon struggling with his control, the Federation starship Nova, and how their lives intertwine.Cross-posted from Fanfiction.net and now part of a series.
Relationships: Astra|Bella/Khai|Edward, Edward Cullen/Bella Swan
Series: NOVA: The Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178738
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Part 1:1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks! So, I'm finally getting around to writing the long-awaited sequel to NOVA and thought it would be wise to cross-post so I could edit this story before starting on the new one. I wrote NOVA when I was in my last year of high school so there are *many* things that need to be fixed. Stay tuned for EDEN. 
> 
> Original A/N circa 2013:  
> Alright, this is it. The new Star-Trek: Into Darkness inspired fic – I tried to make it as original as possible while still drawing from Vulcan behaviors/words/etc. (because I love Spock), and still making it Twi-centric. This was also loosely inspired by a Star Trek 2009 fanfiction called Winds Against a Starby valyria.

**Part 1**

**1**

_The Planet Giidalan, Giidalan Science Institute, 2601_

"The subject appears to be functioning well," a middle-aged man says aloud, sharp ears detecting the whir of the computer recording his dictation. "Aged three years as of today, the subject has responded well to the armor treatment – his healing abilities appear to have quickened the recovery time. _End_. Computer, notify Head Director Mah'hesen that today's testing is completed."

The man turns away from the flat screen of the computer, hands clasped loosely behind his back as his eyes rove over the young child in the next room. Through the separation glass, which served as a barrier between the child's room and the observation room that he and other scientists used, the man can see the child gazing solemnly at the thick, black tattoos etched into his skin.

_It is disconcerting,_ he thinks warily, _that a child of this age should express such lack of emotion. Even for our race, Giidas children smile – but not him_.

Buried beneath years of mental walls built to keep his emotions in check, the man had vague conflicting emotions about his occupation. Ten years ago, he had been assigned to a special unit at the Science Institute, a new unit with the sole purpose of creating the perfect being, a bio-weapon that could think, the ultimate solider. After many trials and errors, one subject managed to survive – the one in the next room. The man's emotional conflict came from the fact that the subject surviving had no name, no family, and absolutely no free-will; he had a destiny and everything this child did was designed to accomplish that future.

The man's hands twitch when the door behind him slides open; he forces his body to relax. Logically, he has no reason to be tense – he is merely doing his job. The man turns, greets Head Director Mah'hesen with a stony expression.

Ed'vard Mah'hesen's eyes are riveted on the child, carefully examining the sharp lines of the tattoos he helped design. "The procedure?"

"Exemplary," the scientist replies tonelessly. "No complications noted."

"That is satisfactory," Ed'vard replies, taking another step closer to the observation window, unblinking as the child's head swivels in his direction, a blank stare meeting his own.

"The wounds from the procedure healed remarkably fast. His body did not reject the armor."

Ed'vard tilts his head to the side, dark eyes watching as the child turns away to look at the tattoos on his arms again. A very small part of Ed'vard was pleased; this child, the only success so far, shared his particular DNA. The decision to genetically father the subject was rather simple – he would not have lost anything had the subject not survived.

But the subject – the child – did survive. Ed'vard distantly wondered how much the subject would grow to resemble him and dismissed the thought just as quickly.

"His healing properties continue to grow," Ed'vard states, casting his eyes to the scientist who overlooked this experiment. "What of his strength?"

"The subject is very strong for his age," the scientist responds. "His intelligence is years ahead, as well."

A slight orange tinge flashes in Ed'vard's eyes. "Then he can begin physical training soon?"

The scientist shifts ever-so-slightly. "Indeed." He takes a deep breath. "Sir, should the subject not have a name?"

Ed'vard blinks. "I suppose he should. He has survived long enough," he says unnecessarily, stating a well-known fact. "His official name shall be my own, as he does share genetic material with me, however little."

"His _official_ name, sir?"

Ed'vard looks back at the child. "Correct. That will be the name on his records. But we will call him Khai."

"Khai, sir?" A highly unusual name.

"Yes. He will be a warrior, a _kai_. It is only logical that his name should represent who he is."

The scientist pauses, a slight downward pull on his lips. "Indeed."

It was highly illogical, but the scientist had the notion that children should be named for better reasons. However, the subject was no mere child – he was extraordinary, highly advanced, perhaps advanced enough to not care about what he was called. Perhaps, the emotional modifications they had made to his DNA would protect the subject from the harsh realities of his life.

Ed'vard turns away from the observation window completely, his posture stiff. "It would be prudent to inform you that the Federation is requesting information on the subject – on Khai," he corrects, blinking twice. "As they have funded this experiment, I find it acceptable that they are updated on his progress. Please send the Federation all of Khai's information at your earliest convenience."

The scientist nods, turning to the com-unit to do just that; he stops short when he hears Ed'vard Mah'hesen's footsteps moving towards the door. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Are you leaving for the day?"

Ed'vard nods. "My duties have been completed and it is late. I suggest you also go home. Is your mate not expecting a child soon?"

The other man keeps his expression blank, silently fighting against the roiling emotions threatening to burst from their dam. "Indeed, sir. Any day now. I will be sure to leave soon."

"Good day, then," Ed'vard says detachedly, leaving on the turn of his heel.

The scientist does not respond – his eyes are drawn back to the subject. Khai's eyes are large, perpetually calm, as he watches the door close behind Ed'vard; he looks back down at his tattoos and then towards the scientist. Khai moves, settling himself into the small bed in his room, blankets pulled up to his chin.

A tiny nod from the small child, as if saying 'goodnight'.

The scientist feels a small frown forming on his face. _Yes, Khai understood far too much._

"Good-night, Khai," the man tells the observational window. "May the Gods watch over you."


	2. Part 1: 2

**2**

_Terra, Egypt, 2620_

High, the sun casts short shadows on fine, pale orange sand, sun rays glinting through the polished windows of Cairo's center city; the buildings morph from tall skyscrapers made of glass and metal to the outskirts of the city where the traditional open markets bustle with activity. The sun does little to warm the rapidly cooling desert – a short period of cool weather, an Ice Age, has been spreading through Terra, freezing even the hottest deserts and Cairo is no exception. Still, the Terrans are a strong species who cope with the odd changes in their climate and make efforts to correct the issue – the Ice Age, however subtle, would be over in a few years according to science. Science never lied.

Between the soft _clack_ of sand-shoes – _sandals_ – two sets of Federation-issue boots shift the sand, heels leaving a short cloud of dust behind. The younger of the two men casts a solemn look to the dust accumulating on his shoes. It does not look neat.

"Captain Godric, we are going farther from the shipyard base," Khai states, head swiveling as he observes his surroundings. He wasn't sure he had ever seen so many Terrans in one place before – so many expressions of emotion in one gathering.

Captain Charles Godric grins, pressing his hands into his pockets as he leads his young, tall companion through the bustling crowds of the Egyptian market. Egypt was one of the lovely Terran countries that kept many ancient traditions while still managing to keep up with the technologies that were now familiar to the entire planet. Charles himself had never been to the outdoor markets, but he heard good things about them – and his companion could use a bit of sightseeing.

Charles recalls the day he met Khai – at the time, the boy had been a mere thirteen years old and was already as tall as Charles. Khai was even more withdrawn then than he is now; Charles liked to think he had a good influence on the boy, an influence that had been missing from his life before. He, as a Captain, had the privilege of reading over Khai's records for several years and his human heart protested greatly at the _coldness_ of Khai's childhood. Captain Godric had no children of his own, but Khai he considered his own.

"Calm down, son. The shipyard isn't expecting us for another few hours. We're early," Charles tells him, slowing his pace to match Khai's, slapping the boy on the back. "Take it in," he instructs.

One of Khai's dark brows twitches, though his face remains impassive. "Take _what_ in, Captain?"

Charles sighs. It was hard to remember that, no matter how _human_ Khai looked, he wasn't from Terra – he was Giidas, better than Giidas, really – and he didn't think like a Terran, either. Khai had the tendency of taking things literally.

"Take in your surroundings, Khai," he clarifies, removing his hand from the boy's back.

Khai's steel-toned eyes flick around quickly, easily memorizing the sights of the open market, the colorful cloths women wore on their heads, the hand gestures as patrons bartered prices. He lingers on the architecture of the metal and wood stands with bright orange and yellow awnings – idly wonders how those structures would hold up in windy weather or if the owners took those stands down. "I see my surroundings, Captain."

"But do you appreciate them?"

 _What an odd question_.

Khai tilts his head, feeling a brush of dark reddish hair fall across his forehead. "Appreciate, Captain?"

Charles, dark eyes bright, gestures one hand out. "Look at this, Khai. Have you ever seen something so lively, something with so much meaning and emotion? These outdoor markets are a mark of Terran history."

"That stand is selling coms."

The Captain waves his hand. "It doesn't matter what they're selling. They're participating in the tradition. That's important to us humans, we Terrans. We like tradition."

"I recall you saying this about the holiday _Christmas_ ," Khai says blandly. "There are many Terran traditions that appear to matter."

"We do," Charles confirms. "Do Giidas not have traditions?"

Khai feels a small frown forming on his face – most unsatisfactory. "I would not know, Captain."

Captain Charles Godric drops the subject immediately, much to Khai's distant relief. The fact of the matter was that Khai never had the privilege of celebrating Giidas traditions – knowing those traditions would not make him a better soldier, so there was no logical reason to participate. Khai was satisfied with the reasoning.

Charles, on the other hand, cursed inside – how could he have forgotten, _again_ , that Khai's childhood wasn't normal by any means? When Khai was fourteen, Charles had to explain what a holiday entailed, to which Khai replied that such celebrations seemed illogical. It was odd to Charles because he had been on Giidalan during a celebration, so he _knew_ they had some sort of holiday – Khai was, apparently, not deemed important enough to participate, as he knew nothing of the matter. It was vexing, confusing as hell.

 _Don't know if the kid feels any particular way about it, but I need to stop bringing up these things_ , Charles thinks with resolution, nodding his head once and then turning his eyes upwards to Khai's face.

Charles feels his brows raise – what was Khai looking at? Following his gaze, Charles feels a grin take over his face.

"She's pretty, huh?"

Khai blinks, drawing his attention from the bright blue fabric wrapped around a young woman's hair. "Sir?"

"That girl you're lookin' at. She's pretty, right?"

"I was merely observing her head-wrap," Khai tells him tonelessly.

Charles deflates slightly. Khai wasn't in a habit of lying – hell, he didn't know if the boy _could_ lie – so it was obvious that he had assumed wrong, _again_.

"Is the head-wrap a tradition, as well?"

Charles cracks his neck. "Could be. Maybe not. She might be African, so maybe it is."

"Interesting."

Captain Charles didn't agree – there was absolutely nothing interesting about a _head-wrap_. The girl, maybe. Her hair? Not so much.

"Khai."

Khai looks down, blankly meeting the Captain's intense stare. Or was it concern? He wasn't accomplished at reading Terran emotion – there were so many to choose from, after all. "Captain."

"Don't you get lonely?"

Khai is silent for a moment, considering the question as he and the Captain walk further from the bustle of the open market, into a calm center that featured food stands. "I do not feel my companionship lacking, Captain," he answers finally, carefully, uncertain of the Captain's line of questioning.

Charles shakes his head. "I mean, don't you want a girlfriend, boy?"

Khai's already impassive face seems to tense even more. "I was not designed to crave romantic company," he says quickly. It was true – he was designed to be a weapon, the perfect soldier. Having a mate was not part of that unless he was required to procreate with another weapon to further the project. As far as Khai knew, he was still the only creation from the Giidas Science Institute that survived.

Charles stops, turning to face Khai. "I know you weren't _designed_ to, but don't you _want_ romantic companionship?"

Khai opens his mouth, ready with a reply, when he notices the Captain's glazed expression.

 _Odd_.

Silently, Khai watches as the Captain stumbles into a circular crowd of people, almost mindlessly, a small smile on his face. Khai observes the crowd, carefully cataloging expressions, mildly alarmed to note that each person in the crowd shared the same dreamy expression, as if they weren't aware of their surroundings.

Feeling his hackles rise, Khai's body tenses, suspicion clouding his eyes, turning the color from steel to grey with a dark orange tinge – Khai inserts himself into the crowd, slowly pushing through the Terrans until he is near the front.

His eyes widen imperceptibly.

In the center of the dazed crowd, a hooded figure of average Terran height stands, relaxed posture, gloved fingers moving easily over the complex holes of a quartz crystal instrument, the other end of the long pipe disappearing under the bowed shadow of the hood. The cloak appeared to be made traditionally, from leather, dark and brown, probably soft to the touch, with a scant trace of sand dusting the bottom edge, covering the feet of the figure.

Khai stands tall, stepping past the last ring of dazed people. "As a Lieutenant Commander of the United Federation, I order you to stop this hypnosis immediately."

The high, trilling notes that, at any other time Khai would have considered quite pleasing to the ear, slow down; the bowed head covered by the hood raises and Khai can finally see a glimpse of round eyes, pale yellow in color, the color of fear.

The figure stops playing and runs.

Khai feels a slow response of sheer shock – he is almost _never_ shocked – that pauses his instant physical reaction for a second longer than necessary.

Quickly, though, the moment passes and Khai's long strides carry him after the hooded figure, who is weaving expertly through the heavy crowd.


	3. Part 1: 3

**3**

_Terra, Egypt, 2620_

_I'm running again, Nanini_. _You'd be proud_ , Astra thinks, her thoughts wild as she works to keep her stride long, her breathing even. She is a skilled runner, enjoying the speed, the pull in her muscles, the way the world flashed by around her as her eyes kept locked on her route, her means of escape. _But I'm so tired of running_.

Every gypsy girl knew that running was tantamount to survival. Nanini always told her, "Gypsy girls don't get far unless they know how to run". How right she was.

Astra's heart clenches – _Nanini_. It had been years since her surrogate mother passed and the pain was still something fierce in her heart, as if her emotions were stronger than Astra's body could handle. So much of her time was spent feeling out of sorts, feeling too intensely. With Nanini's passing, her constant calm, her rock, was torn from underneath her feet and running became Astra's way of life, much more so than any other gypsy girl.

Run. Steal. Play. Run. Repeat. Astra's pattern of survival was less than desirable but it was all she knew, aside from the languages and her li'lute.

 _Ironic_ , her thoughts whisper, _that this time the li'lute was the thing that got you into trouble. Usually, it's the other way around._

Astra forces her body faster – always faster. She is in no way formally trained to run long distances and, though her endurance was exceptional, she had a feeling that getting away from the Federation officer chasing her – the one with the pointed ears and blank face – would be the most difficult thing she'd ever attempted in her short seventeen years. It might even be impossible.

As her body weaves through the dense crowd on the edge of Cairo's outdoor market, lithe limbs easily sliding through small spaces, Astra's mind backtracks, replays what happened in the last five minutes that lead to this outcome.

She hadn't been in Egypt long, hardly a week, but she found it so agreeable. The people in Cairo enjoyed her li'lute, more so than the people in the States, where she had just traveled before deciding to take a tour of the African continent. Astra was sure she'd been on every continent in the world in one way or another, several times – searching, running, always playing the li'lute. Nanini passed of old age when Astra was twelve and since then, the orphan became more gypsy in spirit than she thought possible; while Nanini had carefully chosen destinations, Astra was reckless, visiting even the most dangerous, desolate places of Terra. Her travels stemmed from a restless spirit, from a place where she belonged.

Nanini wasn't her mother – too old for that to be possible – but she was the closest thing Astra had ever had. Her real parents abandoned her and Nanini found her and that was Astra's story. The only clue she had about where she truly belonged was the worn scripted note she kept tucked in her chest protector – the note that called her _Izabela_.

Even now, surely running for her life, Astra wants to scoff. Izabela? _Beauty of the High_? That wasn't who Astra was and definitely not who Astra would ever be. She made Nanini stop calling her Izabela when she was seven and more than capable of picking her own name; _Astra, from the stars_.

More than anything, Astra believed she belonged to the stars.

A large part of her was unnerved running away from a Federation officer – it was a first for her, out of all the people she ever ran from. The Federation was a band of peace-keepers, armed with weapons, intent on exploring the universe. They lived in the stars. Had Astra lived another life, had other means, she would have wanted to be in the Federation, living among the stars, too.

But she was a gypsy girl – no pedigree and no way to enter an Academy.

Astra was lucky Nanini knew how to read – even luckier that she had a talent for learning languages and was quick on the uptake, no matter how much it fevered her later. If Astra could, she knew what her path would be on a Federation ship, gliding through the black abyss of the universe.

She blinks, forcing those thoughts back – she's lost speed.

Astra wants to take a look back, see how far behind the Federation officer is – _didn't he call himself a Lieutenant Commander_?- but she doesn't, knows not to, knows she has to keep her eyes ahead of her.

But – no, she'd gone the wrong way. Crowd's getting thinner. No alleyways. No way to turn back and shake him loose in the crowd. She was too new to Cairo to know any better routes, but she knew that she was leading the Federation officer past the outskirts and into the desert.

That was dangerous. Astra didn't know how to survive in a desert – even gypsy girls like her enjoyed the city, regardless of whether she was sleeping on a curb.

Astra bites her lip, pushing herself further, concentrating on her breathing, glad that her hood has kept her face hidden. Behind her, she can hear the Federation officer's sure, steady stride, longer than hers. He sounds closer.

What to do?

Like a flash, she remembers each time she's run away.

_In Bali, with Nanini. She was three. Caught stealing bread, the baker threw an ancient rolling pin at them while Nanini scooped Astra up and ran as fast as her aging bones could._

_In New Delhi, with Nanini and a small group. Bigger theft this time, not just food, but travel supplies too. She was eight. Nanini had been careful since Bali and Astra wasn't good at running yet – too new, too small still. Later, Nanini would tell her it was a mistake to travel with that small group and Astra would receive a powerful, long-standing lesson that not all gypsies did the right thing, even if doing the wrong thing was the right thing at the time._

_In Istanbul, right when Nanini had gotten sick, right after Astra turned twelve. This time she stole from a hospital, one of the larger ones where she thought it would be easier to sneak in and out without being caught – Gods, she was so wrong. She almost didn't get away that time; the only reason she was able to evade those guards was that she was so small, hiding under a hospital bed, listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor, sneaking out through the window later. It had been a good thing she chose a hospital to steal from that time because the jump out of the second-story window had sprained her ankle._

_In Athens, after Nanini's death – she'd chosen to honor Nanini by traveling through Greece, where Nanini was from. Athens was a particular favorite of Astra's – the city was so ancient, so preserved, it was like stepping back into time._

_Then again, in Rome, in Paris, in Nice, in Berlin, Moscow, St. Petersburg – all while she was fourteen. After that, she'd gotten smarter, started playing the li'lute for money, making rather good tips. She hadn't had to run until China when she was fifteen; Tokyo, too, had been bad, she almost got caught again._

_The last time she ran was in Boston, in the States – she was almost seventeen and had just traveled down from Toronto. They didn't like the li'lute in Boston._

Insight. _That's why he's chasing me_ , she realizes. _Pointed ears, obviously alien. Doesn't know what the li'lute does. Didn't he call it hypnosis?_

She wonders if she could stop and explain – she didn't have those people under a spell at all, in fact, they enjoyed the story her song told – but he was an alien and the li'lute didn't seem to affect him. He wouldn't understand. She had to keep running then.

Astra lets out a short curse when she realizes that the sand has grown thicker – harder to run through – and that she's losing speed. She starts to weave her run, navigating the small dunes, hoping beyond hope that she could trip the Federation officer up and take advantage of his falter to lose him.

She pats the thin protective case of her li'lute as it bounces against her hip underneath her cloak. Something's missing. _No_ , she thinks mournfully. _No, I left my bag. That had all my tips in it and Nanini's book._

Against her better judgment, Astra risks a glance back – he's closer than she thought, running behind her with single-minded determination, a perplexed expression on his face.

She turns her eyes forward. _Guess I won't be circling back, after all._

The book was more important than the tips – Astra almost couldn't handle the sense of loss she felt from leaving it behind. She's angry she forgot the bag. How could she be so stupid, so forgetful? That was her _one_ link to Nanini.

Astra's feet carry her to the top of a larger dune, some hundred feet from the very outskirts of Cairo's outdoor market. Her eyes blink quickly and then she hesitates.

 _Too steep_ , her mind whispers, quickly analyzing the fact that running down a sand dune this size would send her rolling over her body, possibly injuring herself. Self-preservation kicks in, for once, and Astra forces her feet to stop, the soles of her clunky boots skidding deep into the sand, turning to the side, at an angle, anchoring her to the ground.

Change direction, keep running.

For a moment, Astra truly believes that she can work with this abrupt change in plans, that she can quickly regain her speed and possibly circle back for her bag, for Nanini's books.

Then something hits her from the side, jarring her entire body with enough force that she loses her balance.

A long second of feeling airborne, her stomach as weightless as her body – then crashing down on the hot sand, sliding quickly down the large dune thanks to the addition of another body weight. Turning, rolling and rolling, hot sand pressed against her cheek, her figure encased in the cage-like grip of a too-hot body, too-heavy weight and grip squeezing the air out of her chest.

Stop.

A final roll that presses her into the sand.

Her eyes open, blinking, taking in the black uniform decorated with many metallic buttons and the Federation insignia. Her eyes drift upwards, almost dazedly, her brain straining to catch up, the muscles in her legs quivering from running so fast, the case of her li'lute pressing into her hip.

Her eyes connect with the Federation officer's – with the Lieutenant Commander – and she stops.

Just stops.

Stops breathing, stops blinking, stops _thinking._

_Gods, but who is he?_


	4. Part 1: 4

**4**

_Terra, Egypt, 2620_

Captain Charles Godric sinks easily, eagerly, into the vision provided by the li'lute player. Only a few times in his life had he been afforded the opportunity of listening to the trilling tune of a li'lute, he'd been amazed by the visions provided – completely entranced by them.

The li'lute, traditionally made with quartz crystal, could only be played by certain people – people with psi-skills, who have the ability of telepathy, no matter how small, can play the li'lute, create images with the notes they play. He wasn't exactly sure _how_ the li'lute worked aside from the player – a Federation Captain didn't need to know those things anyway.

The vision was wonderful. The tune, rather chirpy, followed the flight of a brilliant blue dragonfly, a beam of bright sunshine on the clear surface of a lake – soothing, uplifting, the tune relaxed Charles so thoroughly that when a deep, demanding voice filtered through, he almost didn't notice.

And then, the vision seemed to pause, waver along with a dying note.

Abruptly, the enchanting vision stopped. Charles opened his eyes to the sound of gasps and rapid footsteps and the sight of his Lieutenant Commander's back chasing the cloaked li'lute player.

 _Now, what in the hell just happened_? Charles wondered, blinking against the sudden glare of the Egyptian sun. The sight of pale sienna sand beneath his boots contrasted so strongly with the Babylonian image from the li'lute – he understood the confusion of the other listeners. It was jarring, the interruption, the sudden _stop_ of the vision. The limited number of times Charles heard the li'lute played, the ending of a song was designed to gently extract the listeners from the vision; Charles frowned, eyes on Khai's rapidly disappearing back. _No way I'd be able to catch him_ , he decides, casting his eyes around the confused crowd.

He eyed a small, brown leather satchel near the place the li'lute player had been standing – open, ready to receive tips. Charles passes through the crowd, bends, picks up the bag. It's well-worn, beaten up, scratched, very light. He closes it tightly, tucks it under his arm – when he catches up with Khai, he'll give the bag back to the li'lute player.

The Captain scratches his head. _But why would Khai chase down…Ah._ Charles sighs; it wasn't too hard to figure out. Li'lutes often didn't work on aliens, especially Giidas who had very strong psi-skills; Khai obviously didn't understand what was happening to the crowd and targeted the li'lute player, thinking the player was doing something wrong, something against regulation.

"A shame," an older man mutters. "I was enjoying that. Wonder why the piper ran?"

"That Lieutenant Commander called it hypnosis," a woman replies, picking up a basket of fruit, settling it on her hip. "Sounded serious. Think that's what a li'lute does?"

The older man waves his hand. "Of course not. Li'lutes are for entertainment. That piper was actually very good, one of the most skilled I've heard."

Charles could agree with that – the skill he'd been afforded to hear just now was more than exceptional. It was expert. He adjusts his posture, standing taller, shoulders stiff, and approaches the conversing Terrans. "Do you know where he lives, that piper?"

The older man blinks, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling when a wide grin spreads over his face. " _He_? Captain, what would make you think that piper was a man?"

Charles frowns. Was Khai chasing a woman? That was…extremely out of character. Of course, Khai probably didn't realize it yet. "A woman, then?"

"A girl," the woman holding the fruit basket corrects gently. "A young girl. A gypsy girl."

 _Well, that certainly complicates things_.

Charles nods, clearing his expression – civilians didn't need to be concerned that the Federation was intentionally chasing down young gypsy girls, after all. "I see. How long has this gypsy been around?"

"I heard for about a week," the old man replies gruffly, adjusting the hat on his head.

"She's been playing in this area for the last five days," the woman replies helpfully. "I don't know where she's been staying, but a lot of gypsies like the outlands near the river. There's a little shack."

Charles offers his most charming smile. "Thank you, ma'am. I have this bag to return, so I might try looking there."

A soft frown crosses the woman's face. "Have you any idea why that Lieutenant Commander chased her away?"

Years of practice were the only reason Charles was able to answer while sounding truthful. The Federation crews got into some sticky situations off-planet sometimes; being able to lie through one's teeth was essential with aliens. "We got a report about a li'lute player matching her description stealing from this area," he tells them stoically. "Didn't know the piper was a girl or a gypsy. This might change the report since gypsies aren't welcome by all. We're just here to check it out. Though, if she ran, perhaps she has something to hide."

The older man nods. "Some gypsies do some questionable things," he says easily, with the sure tone one only develops after years of being alive.

It was true, too. As far advanced as Terra was, and Terrans by extension, the openness of the universe made the gypsy trend come back to an unusual extent once space travel was open to civilians, granted they had the money. Gypsies, the travelers that followed the wind, gained an even worse reputation in the early years – some even killed while stealing and several _were_ wanted.

Gypsy discrimination was nothing new and Charles was wise to play subtly into the card, even if he didn't fully believe that all gypsies were bad. He firmly believes that the character of a person was defined by who they were as an individual, not a group.

"That they do," Charles agrees, putting his 'Captain' voice on. "If you will excuse me, I have to go sort this mess out. You all have a nice day."

Captain Charles Godric ambled away, walking briskly, following Khai's footsteps in the sand, footsteps that after overshadowed smaller boot prints. Once he is far enough away, he ducks into a shadow, leans up against a wall and opens the satchel. Careful of the money, he searches the bag, looking for anything that can confirm the piper is both a female and a gypsy – it would do no good for him to run into this now-complicated situation with no information, especially since Khai just made that exact misstep.

In the bag, a small blue box of feminine hygiene products and a long, flowing grey dress confirms the rumor that the piper is female. And the gypsy assumption is also confirmed when Charles comes across a thick book of ancient languages thoughtfully placed at the bottom of the satchel. _Only gypsies carry around books anymore_.

The Captain heaves a deep sigh. "Khai, what on Terra have you gotten us into?"

Resolving to get this mess sorted out before he and Khai are due at the shipyard in a few hours, Charles takes out his communicator, a small silver square with several small buttons on the side. He turns it on, watching the holo-screen flicker, and flips on his ear-unit, which captures his voice and relays sound.

"Computer, locate Lieutenant Commander Khai," he says clearly, shifting the satchel onto his shoulder as the blue holo-screen brings up a picture of a map with a bright green dot, representing Khai's rapidly moving location. "Christ, is he chasing a cheetah?"

Charles watches the holo-screen until the green dot finally stops moving and then quickly moves in that direction, hoping that he'll make it to that location before Khai does something regrettable.

He walks very far, far past the outlands of Cairo's outdoor market. He sees the tiny, poorly built shack the woman talked about and stops for a moment to investigate it – based on the thick layer of dust and sand, nobody had been in this shack for a long time. The gypsy girl didn't sleep here, then.

Concern begins to settle in Charles' gut when he begins to reach the large dunes – it wasn't safe to be out here. The sand was still hot despite the slight chill of the Ice Age and Charles knew from experience that deserts were unforgiving places. He looks back at the holo-screen, silently thankful that he's at least _close_ to Khai's location; it wouldn't have been good had Khai chased the girl into the pits of the desert.

The scene Charles stumbles across makes his feet skid in the sand, right on the edge of the large dune. His own heart beat from the intensity he witnessed.

Maybe it was because Khai was alien or maybe it was because Khai had never expressed interest in a girl.

The Lieutenant Commander, no older than twenty-two – in fact, the youngest graduate of the Federation Academy and the youngest member of the Federation fleet – hovered over the cloaked gypsy girl, her hood off, revealing a stunning face that looked absolutely mesmerized. Charles would be willing to bet that Khai looked just as awe-struck.

The Captain, turned away for a moment when Khai's face began to dip down – _would his surrogate son be getting his first kiss from that beautiful gypsy_?

Charles looks back when he hears the girl's voice and the sound of a slap; Khai looks as shocked as ever.

"What the _hell_ is The Engulfment?" the gypsy demands, sitting up, forcing Khai back, scuttling away from the Lieutenant Commander, defensive.

Charles' eyes dart between the young people and he grins. _There could be something here_.

"Khai," he says, drawing attention to himself as he slides down the dune on his feet. "If you want to kiss a girl, you _ask_ first, got it?" Gleefully, Charles grins at the girl when Khai fails to respond, his young face slack with mortification, a dusting of light purple on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Charles offers the satchel to the girl. "I believe this is yours."

* * *


	5. Part 1: 5

**5**

_Terra, Egypt, 2620_

Ahead of him, Khai sees the cloaked figure stop at the top of a dune and increases his speed, throwing himself at the figure. A miscalculation. Steep dune. Long fall, rolling. And the scent – _female, Terran, fear_.

Khai cages his arms, hoping to take the weight of the impact – his body is stronger, denser, heavier. Too heavy. They stop rolling, Khai managing to maneuver on top, keeping the runner pinned beneath him. She might be female and he doesn't want to harm her, but she also _ran_ – she can't be allowed to escape. That would be unacceptable.

He looks down, meaning to examine for injuries. He stops. His biological functions begin to rattle, thrown off their rhythm – that doesn't matter.

_Who is she? What is this feeling?_

Khai's eyes greedily memorize the exact shade of her skin, smooth and creamy, the color of a lily, a dusting of pale brown freckles over her nose, under her eyes. _Magnificent_. He found hyper-femininity in her face; the gracile jaw, slightly-up turned nose, high cheek-bones, a faint arch to her dark brows, puffed petunia-pink lips that made him wonder if they were as soft as they looked. Her body was beneath his, much smaller but clearly defined with toned muscles; the smooth ridge of her collarbone drawing his attention for a moment as his mind quickly cataloged the series of freckles on the side of her neck, under her ear. Dark hair, the darkest, richest shade of brown, like the chocolate Terrans loved but that he could not eat, coiled in a messy shape behind her neck, a thick fringe of silky-straight hair falling over her brow. Her scent was fresh with a gently honeyed undertone, almost like tea made from the ripest flowers – _intoxicating_ – that drew his attention to her fluttering pulse. And her eyes, exotically tilted, naturally dark lashes, the iris a wispy-grey-silver shade that was rapidly changing into soft lavender. _Fascinating_.

He found her poetic.

His mind halts – _eyes changing colors_. Khai wasn't aware that Terrans had this trait, he thought only the Giidas people from Giidalan possessed this quality, despite how much they tramped it down. _He_ had this trait.

 _It does not matter_ , a tiny part argues. _She smells human, appears human. I might check her ears. She did run fast. Perhaps not entirely human. Does not smell of Giidas. Perhaps does not realize…._

As Khai's mind is lost in rapid analyzing, beneath him, the girl finally regains her breath.

 _He is exceptional_.

That was true. Astra had never seen someone so singularly attractive, so particularly masculine while still appearing boyish. He couldn't be that much older than her – and a Lieutenant Commander, at that. Very impressive. Almost as impressive as his looks. She liked his strong, sharp jaw, liked that she could see the muscles there ticking as he clenches his teeth together. His features were so angular, completely symmetric; the exact straight of his nose, finely sculpted lips, thick, slightly lowered brows. Her eyes sought the tip of his ears, which brushed through a chaos of dark reddish-brown hair, highlighted with copper like an ancient penny – the curve of his earlobe morphed into a sensually attractive point at the very top of his ears, a feature that she found particularly attractive as it was so unique. His body was heavy against hers and much too warm, but also comfortingly built with lean muscles, clearly well-defined; she could tell he was much taller, though by how much she was unsure. His eyes, a captivatingly serious shape, drew another point of breathless interest, the iris a shade of solid, unforgiving metal-tinged just a bit with a light lilac. As she watched him, those eyes shifted colors, the steel remained, tinged with the lightest aqua instead of lavender.

The very few times she looked at herself in the mirror, she noticed that _her_ eyes did that too. This observation immediately made Astra wary – _he's alien, the ears give him away. I'm human. Why do my eyes shift?_

Again, he draws her attention with his eyes, the steel morphing to accommodate a rather loud purple tinge.

He leaned closer to her. Her breath caught. If she had been in her right mind instead of so mesmerized by his looks, she would have wondered at his change of attitude – chasing her, _tackling_ her one moment, only to lower his face to hers the next? It was certainly an interesting way to introduce himself.

The case of her li'lute continues to dig into her hip, a distracting jab as the Lieutenant Commander lets out a hot breath, his face only a scant few inches from hers.

His eyes, still deep purple-steel, meet hers, his brows furrowing ever so slightly, the copper highlights of his unruly hair brushing against her forehead. " _Shan'hal'lak,"_ he murmurs, very carefully closing the final distance between them.

Astra's heart seemed determined to beat out of her chest in a way that was not unwelcome – she enjoyed the giddy feeling in her stomach, the heat rising to her face. She licked her lips, thrilled with the soft growl he gives her in response.

His lips just barely brush against hers.

Astra pulls back, her mind finally catching up. What had he said? _Shan'hal'lak_? That was Giidas – it was High Giidas, _Gidal'su_ , the language of the High Clans on Giidas.

 _Shan'hal'lak_. With very little effort on her part, Astra's mind instantly begins translating, working quickly, sifting through all the languages she knew as the Lieutenant Commander leans back down again.

Her hand moves without thought, delivering a sharp, unforgiving slap across his smooth, unlined face. She watches as a soft purple flare of blood beneath his skin blooms where her skin touched his. Her mouth opens, air forced into neglected lungs. "What the _hell_ is The Engulfment?" she demands.

 _Shan'hal'lak_. _The Engulfment. Of what? I don't understand._

Astra moves quickly, easily maneuvering herself from beneath his heavy, tense, frozen body. She moves to her feet, quickly stepping back several feet, watching as he sits back on his heels, staring up at her with a suddenly impassive face – _not that he was showing all that much emotion before_.

To her left, a sand cloud is kicked up by boots similar to the Lieutenant Commander's and Astra looks towards the source. Shorter, older, kind face, Terran, more metallic buttons on his uniform than the Lieutenant's.

Astra's body tenses further, prepared to run again because that's all she could do.

The man doesn't address her, though; he releases a great grin, speaks with good-natured humor. "Khai, if you want to kiss a girl, you _ask_ first, got it?" Then he turns to her, slipping the strap of a very familiar bag off his shoulder. "I believe this is yours."

Astra's heart, which had been heavier than normal under the suddenness of her day, instantly lightened. _Nanini's book_. _Thank God._

"Thank you," she tells him gratefully, grabbing the worn satchel and bringing to her chest, ignoring the dull ache of her chest protector when the applied pressure, hugging the bag to her fiercely.

The Lieutenant Commander, _Khai_ – _doesn't that mean 'weapon' in Giddas?_ – stands, carefully brushing off his uniform. Astra had guessed that he was tall, but she hadn't thought he was _that_ tall – a clear foot taller than her measly five feet, seven inches. He stood more than five inches taller than the other Federation officer.

Astra frowns, taking another step back. She didn't trust either of them, especially not the one who thought it a good idea to chase a girl down and kiss her and tell her ambiguous things about some Engulfment.

"What do you want with me?" she asks warily. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong," the officer assures her. "I'm Captain Godric. This is all just a misunderstanding."

"Right. Sure it is. Explain why _he's_ going on about some Engulfment, then. Whatever it is, I have nothing to do with it. I may be a gypsy, but I keep my nose clean – you can check, if you want."

Captain Godric raises an inquisitive brow at his tall companion. _This poor girl,_ he thinks with mild amusement, _Khai's probably scarred her for life. Now she'll be suspicious of all young, tall Giidas. Perhaps I should inform him that there are better ways of wooing women?_

Khai, the obnoxiously young Lieutenant Commander, clears his throat. "The instrument you were using to hypnotize my Captain and innocent bystanders-"

" _Excuse me? Hypnotize?_ " Astra cries, reaching a hand down to clasp her li'lute case. _"Are you mental? I was playing a musical instrument, you oblivious elf!_ "

One of Khai's dark brows raises in surprise, the only facial tick that he regularly allows. Interesting. "You speak Giidas?" he asks, completely ignoring her claims of a musical instrument and the fact that she opted to call him an elf, which he understood to be a fictional character of some sort that lived in the woods. Terrans were so odd.

Astra snaps her mouth closed. _Oops_. It was a slip-up, one she tried not to make too often – it always caused trouble. She had a knack for picking up languages, accents, dialects, as long as she paid for it with a fever – sometimes delusions, hallucinations, a ringing in her ears. Once she learned a language, it just stayed with her. Hearing it once, trying out a word and _there it was_ , right in her brain, settled in with the rest, waiting to be used. She feared that this slip-up of speaking in perfect Giidas would be detrimental. What could she do? Two high-ranking Federation officers just heard her – there was no telling how they would react and she didn't trust Khai, not one bit. She takes another step back. "I might," she answers. "Perhaps only insults."

Khai's face clears, unmovable as stone. "You know Gidal'su," he states, his eyes cold steel.

"Maybe." Astra had to do something – redirect his attention. "What is the Engulfment?" she asks again, slowly, her voice low, handling the word with great care.

She had only known his name for a few moments, but even Astra could see that Khai's eyes became shuttered, his face even tenser – the clench of his jaw muscle that she had previously admired. "The Engulfment is nothing. It applies to nothing here. What other languages are you proficient at?"

Astra wants to argue, tell him that The Stupid Engulfment obviously meant _something_ , or else he wouldn't have said anything when he was trying to kiss her, but she remains silent. It didn't matter. She would figure it out some other time if she remembered to stop by a library – perhaps the large library Cairo was famous for, as she did want to visit there anyway while she was in Egypt.

She lifts her chin, drops the case of her li'lute so that it hangs by her side, and settles the strap of her satchel over her shoulder, pulling her hood up just enough to cover her head and shield her eyes. She was ready to run at a moments notice. "I can speak, read and write 77 languages and dialects. Why? Would you like to hear ancient Mandarin?" she questions, allowing an edge of sarcasm to creep into her voice.

Khai wasn't sure what to think, though. She reminded him of poetry, even with the sand-dusty hood covering her shiny hair, casting a shadow on her exotically tilted eyes. She reminded him of The Engulfment, something he was _supposed_ to be genetically programmed to ignore, to not experience. And yet…His lower lip tingles, remembering the soft feel of her lips against his for that short second. He had never cursed his eidetic memory so thoroughly before – it was an illogical weakness to remember that kiss. It wouldn't be happening again. _Shan'hal'lak_ was nothing to Khai, didn't exist to him. He would ignore it and continue his duties to the Federation.

He takes note of the slow dip of the sun – it was getting late. According to his biological clock, he and Captain Godric had less than two hours to reach the shipyard bay for the inspection of the _Nova_. This…interruption with the girl would need to be ended quickly.

That many languages was impressive – Khai only spoke fifty, though he could read a few more than that. It was an odd feeling; no one had ever bested him at something. He wasn't sure he liked it.

Beside him, Captain Godric laughs. "I like you, gypsy girl," he tells her. "That's a fine load of languages at your arsenal. Tell me, how did you manage to pick up so many?"

Astra addresses the Captain with more respect – no need in angering both of them. "I do travel a lot, Sir."

"I bet. Have you ever wanted to travel through space?"

"More than anything," she answers honestly.

Such truth. _Yes, space. The galaxy. This world is not big enough_.

Khai observes the wistful expression on her face and the calculating one on his Captains. It was a familiar expression, one that usually had rather lengthy consequences and outcomes – Khai felt his distant emotions become wary. What could the Captain have in mind?

Captain Charles Godric grins at the girl. "How about we make a deal? Tell me your name and I'll ask you a question that could change your life."

A soft breeze passes through the air, ruffling the sand around Astra's feet. He could change her life? It was a tempting offer – tempting enough that she crumbled to it. She'd never been good at denying her urges. "Astra."

Khai's heart thumps, his mind greedy again, absorbing her name, committing it to memory. In response, he hardens the mental walls in his mind. Weapons don't have visceral reactions to something as illogical as a _name_.

Captain Godric grins. "The Federation Academy is opening up a new linguistics program this year. The semester starts next week. Would you like to join us in London?"

Astra's eyes flash a brilliant pink. Her answer is simple, immediate, a no-brainer. This was the offer of her life. Of course, she said yes.


	6. Part 1: 6

**6**

_Terra, London, 2620_

London was a city of towers, all gleaming under the constant overcast – far more chilling than Cairo. Unlike most cities, London didn't eventually wane into the countryside; the city sprawled for a long while, then stopped suddenly, right at the edge of another city. Only a few of London's most historical places were preserved – Buckingham Palace, the clock tower Big Ben, the Parliament building, and a few chapels. The streets bustled with people, the air between and above the towering buildings littered with hovercars and hoverbikes. On the far left edge of London, a series of stark white towers created in a large square stood out from a sea of grey and glass – the Federation Academy.

Astra clutched the one bag that contained all of her possessions in the world – her body felt tense, like a live wire, like she was about to burst from her skin. She was too anxious to figure out if she was also feeling excitement. Did that matter? She wasn't sure – but her feet had just touched the campus of the Federation Academy. The sidewalk was perfectly clean, even, smooth and polished, not one crack in sight; carefully cultivated squares of bright green grass stood out against the sterile white of the Academy, with looming trees of all species, flower gardens, and white benches completing the clinic beauty of the area. She'd never seen a place so singular with order – not one blade of grass stood taller than another and each flower was bloomed, even in the abysmal weather. It began to sprinkle, little drops of water bouncing off the polished sidewalk, and Astra began to walk forward, observing the efficient paths of students, enjoying the sound of conversation around her as she approached one of the tall white towers – her dorm.

The matter of placing Astra had been something of a chore – tedious testing, both mental and physical, and then the complicated matter of how to pay for her time at the Academy. Though she had never had any formal education, relying only on the simple lessons Nanini was able to teach her, the testing was easy for Astra, almost too easy. It was almost insulting how simple the tests were until she was honest with the administration and asked for difficult subjects. As a result, her placement in the Academy as the youngest student to enter the xenolinguistic track put her in a first-year course load with advanced classes. Eventually, with the generous help of Captain Godric, the Federation Admiralty came to the decision that, should she be assigned to a ship if she graduated, her yearly salary would go to pay off her education loans – and if she did not graduate, then she would pay off any loans the old fashioned way.

And now, here she was, taking her first steps into her dorm, squeezing into the crowded turbolift. Astra had only been on a turbolift a handful of times in her life and she decided she definitely didn't like it – she would be taking the stairs from now on.

Stepping off the turbolift, she glances at the room numbers, locating the one that had been assigned to her. The hallways were also white, the floors made of the same polished material as the outdoor sidewalks, one large square window at each end of the hallway. Her assigned dorm was beside one of these windows; Astra glances out, stunned by the view of both the campus and the grey city of London from this height. Turning her attention to the mounted sensor on the wall, she places her hands on the sensitive black surface, blinking when an electric blue line of light accompanied by a rush of warmth scans her hand – then the white door slides open, revealing a comforting chaos of color.

Immediately she steps into the living room, taking note of the low square white couch littered with a bright orange blanket and colorful pillows, the mounted com-unit directly across from the couch. There is no kitchen. Adjacent to the wall of the com-unit, three white sliding doors are spaced out, one of which is open, revealing an empty room. _Her_ room.

The room is a perfect square – window across from the door, gel-bed jutting from the left wall, a nook-closet between the window and the bed, across from the closet is the door to the sonic shower and toilet, a built-in white desk on the right wall, a set of thin white shelves on that wall. The desk holds several sleek objects of which Astra had never owned before but did now; a thin, rectangular silver-edged Pad, an ear-com, a pocket-com like Captain Godric had. Beside the desk, near the door, is also a Replicator, the machine built right into the nook, a com-unit in similar size to the Pad mounted beside it. Astra never had a Replicator before; she supposed it was the very reason that her dorm didn't have a kitchen.

She sets her beat-up satchel down, carefully opening it and taking out Nanini's book, putting that in the center of the shelf above the desk. Her li'lute case is placed next to the book. She takes out the flowing grey dress, hangs it in the closet and discovers a set of drawers built right into the nook-closet, right at the bottom; in the drawers she stows her bag, content with her unpacking for now, knowing she only has a few garments to unload.

Astra's feet turn, spinning her in a circle around her new room, bringing her face-to-face with a mirror built into the sliding door. She stops. Stares. Once arriving in London, Captain Godric had supplied her with shelter on behalf of the Recruitment Unit of the Federation and she had the opportunity to clean up her cloak, truly surprised to find it in such great condition. She wore the dark brown cloak and hood right now, the material heavy, breathable, comfortable. Astra pushes the hood off her head, unbuckles the fastening beneath her throat and places the cloak on the bed. She bites her lip as she looks at her reflection – a dull green dress with a flowing skirt that fell to her ankles, the chest-protector, brown laces up the side, old clunky boots.

She didn't look like an Academy student. She looked like a gypsy who snuck in.

A wave of indignation washes over her and her eyes flash pale red with her irritation. Even if her recruitment wasn't average, she'd _earned_ her placement here – she had something to prove. She was worth something, even if her parents abandoned her.

Astra strides over to the Replicator, switching it on, watching as it projects a slightly green holo-image; after a few moments of tinkering around, getting a feel for the system and controls, she finds the desired section of Cadet-suitable clothing for the Academy and begins to search through the catalog. With a flick of her fingers, the Replicator begins to work, a low _whirring_ sound as a pile of clothes appears inside the nook. _What a handy device_.

Placing the replicated clothes on the bed, she takes her worn-down brown cloak and hangs it in the closet beside her grey dress – _these are things of my past_. She sheds her dull green dress and chest protector, and steps into the sonic shower, feeling the pulses remove the dirt and grime from her skin, leaving Astra's skin and hair refreshed, clean once more. As a gypsy, having the opportunity to use a sonic shower was rare – she usually settled for creeks and rivers – but she rejoiced in having this luxury right where she slept.

Once dressed, Astra turns back to the mirror. The white dress she chose capped over her shoulders, the collar high, covering her neck, the hem just brushing against her knees, the thick material soft and belling from her hips. On top of that, she wore a brand new chest protector, which served as protection from most weapons and as support for her chest, the color the warmest chocolate, a fine silver zip up the sides – an upgrade from the ties she was used to. Her feet were clad in deep mocha-colored ankle boots, the zip large and round and silver, the heel flat, sturdy, good for running. And finally, her most favorite replicated piece, a new reinforced material cloak with a deep hood, the color of cocoa in the summer with a hidden silver clasp, the hem falling just past her knees. She braided her hair carefully in the same way that she had seen a few Giidas women do, several tiny herringbone braids interwoven in the main braid; by the time her hair was done, the tail of the braid passed her waist, her thick fringe joined by the layered hair that was cut to frame her face. Astra felt renewed, like a shinier version of herself.

Hearing the sound of a door sliding open, Astra grabs the portable pocket-com and ear-com, settling both small devices in the inner-pocket of her cloak and sliding the door of her room open.

The first room-mate she sees is tall, Amazonian, statuesque. Her skin is the lightest shade of sand, as if just kissed by the sun, her lips full, red, naturally open, her hair an ombre blond falling to her shoulders where the strands were ash blond. Her eyes were arresting, bright orange irises, wide, friendly, open – completely belying the intimidation of her beauty. She wore earth tones – clay-red chest protector, deep orange pants smudged with black grease and littered with pockets, a tight golden shirt of long sleeves, her shoes similar to Astra's. She looked completely human except for the bridge of her nose, which in profile was set higher, so even though the tip of her nose sloped in an appealing way, the top bridge was level with her forehead and the fact that her brows were angled in a peculiar way, up high, almost invisible.

Behind her, a shorter girl smiles, her skin iridescent, a glow of the lightest pink, her hair a tight cap of dark pink, almost magenta, and her eyes gleaming the color of rose quartz. Her features were soft, slightly rounded, more delicate than the other room-mate, her body willowy, a few inches shorter than Astra. She wore a bright purple dress, long sleeves, short hem, and a silver chest-protector with ties that ended in bells, her boots high and silver. Around her head was a thin circlet that cut across her forehead, a series of silver bells and colorful beads hanging from one side. The make-up on her eyes was also attention-grabbing, dark pink sweeping from her lashes in a cat-like tilt, sparkling eye shadow, glossed lips the color of baby roses.

It's the shorter girl who speaks first. "Greetings! I am Mari'Ahlice," she says brightly. "From Piarix, if you were wondering. My people like color. This is Rosy."

Rosy, the tall, intimidating blond, smiles easily, her voice soothing and soft as she speaks. "From Zainte. If you'll excuse me, I must meditate for a moment. I'll be quick and we can go eat at the mess."

Rosy passes into the first sliding door, brushing Astra on the way. Rosy simply emits heat, like a furnace. Astra had the notion that she would be good company to keep in the winter.

"She will probably change her clothes, too," Mari'Ahlice says once Rosy's door slides closed, sitting gracefully, brushing the skirt of her dress for invisible lint. "She is in the engineering track – it is so messy. I could not do it, you know? Too much grease. I am better with direction," she winks, patting the seat beside her. "Sit, sit."

Astra offers a cool smile, the nerves that had been chipping away at her mind falling away. She had friendly room-mates.

"They told us you would be arriving earlier," Mari'Ahlice says as Astra folds her legs beneath her bottom, a position that felt natural to her and uncomfortable to most.

"The hover bus I was on was delayed by engine trouble. The driver had to wait for assistance," Astra answers, furrowing her brow when Mari'Ahlice doesn't respond. In fact, the girl seems to be dazed, her eyes unfocused.

Just as Astra is considering to lean forward and check if her new room-mate is alright, Mari'Ahlice snaps out of it. "Sorry," she says. "That happens sometimes. We Piaries sometimes receive visions from our Gods."

"Oh," Astra blinks. She'd met several Piaries on her travels, which is how she learned the language and this was news to her. "I didn't know that."

Mari'Ahlice nods enthusiastically. "Yes, most Piaries receive visions every once and a while, but I get them frequently. It is my heritage," she says, pausing, looking Astra over with a kindly critical eye. "I have seen that I can trust you, so I will tell you something only Rosy and the Admiralty know. My parents are the current rulers of Piarix."

"You're a princess, then? What are you doing here?" _That just doesn't make any sense – why would a princess give up her throne to go to a Federation Academy?_

Mari'Ahlice sits back slightly. Astra was able to recognize that her proper posture for what it was now. Mari'Ahlice fingers one of the bells on her circlet – _perhaps a crown of some sort? A tiara?_ "I had a vision a few years ago. It is imperative for several futures that I am here."

"So you left?"

Mari'Ahlice looks evenly at Astra with her sparkling rose quartz eyes. "You gave up being a gypsy to follow your dreams, did you not? I did the same thing."

Astra nods, understanding. "You know of my past then?"

"My visions show me past, present, and future. I prayed to my Gods when I received news that you would be here and they showed me many things. You have had a hard life," she says, briefly touching the back of Astra's hand. "But your future can be bright."

Astra's mind catches the words, analyzes them, stores them. " _Can be_ bright? It might not be?"

Mari'Ahlice grins, showing off soft pearly teeth. "Careful of your curiosity, Astra. The orange of your eyes comes out and you are not yet supposed to learn certain answers to your inquires. I have to keep some things a secret." Mari'Ahlice stands, the heels of her boots clicking the polished floor. "I see you found the Replicator."

Astra stands too. "Yes."

Mari'Ahlice continues to smile. "I am glad you have decided to let your past show."

"I'm sorry?" Astra blinks.

A tiny hand gestures to Astra's cloak. "This is a symbol of the gypsy, this hood, this cloak. You are wise to keep one with you."

Slowly, Astra nods, agreeing. She understands that Mari'Ahlice switched back and forth easily from hinting at the future, revealing the past, and living in the present – she wondered if the Princess of Piarix ever became confused by the altering realities gifted to her by her Gods. _Probably not._

"Did I hear something about an engine problem on a hover bus?" Rosy asks as she comes out of her room, dressed in a burnt orange romper with thin straps, the shorts cut with a wide hem and several pockets, her chest protector a lovely chestnut, her hair pulled back into a messy high fall that she managed to make attractive. "They need to change the engine array in those things – just like I told that driver last month, right Mari'Ahlice?"

Mari'Ahlice's smile is amused as she looks at Astra. "She _did_ tell the driver that. Then we had to find another hover bus to get back to the Academy."

"Sorry, _Princess_ ," Rosy teases. "You had to walk."

Mari'Ahlice sniffs, her eyes bright. "That is right. Shame on you, Rosy, for making royalty prance around in the street."

"You hardly pranced!"

Astra laughs, feeling at ease. She enjoyed the rapport between the roommates and knew she would soon be the victim of such ribbing.

Her laughter draws the attention of Rosy, whose smile is gentler. "Nice to meet you," she says. "Sorry that I hid in my room earlier. I need to meditate before every meal."

Astra shakes her head. "No, it's okay. I'm hardly hungry anyway."

Rosy's eyes widen. "Not hungry? I'm going to fatten you up. Look at you – too thin. Do you eat meat?"

Beside her, Mari'Ahlice makes an odd noise.

Rosy rolls her eyes. "Hush, Vegetarian."

With a good-natured smile, Mari'Ahlice offers an explanation. "Rosy, she is gypsy – and Terran. Her weight is perfectly acceptable for her height and age."

Rosy raises a skeptical, nearly invisible brow. "I'm not so sure. She's seventeen. I've read that Terrans have a higher metabolic rate at this age. She's growing, needs more food."

Astra's stomach grumbles, as if on cue. Her face heats up. "You know, I could eat," she says sheepishly. "I guess I'm hungrier than I thought."

Rosy smiles, tossing Mari'Ahlice a victorious look. "Knew it. You never answered my question – carnivore or no?"

Astra follows Mari'Ahlice and Rosy into the hall, walking between them, a perfect middle-ground for their contrasting heights. "I'm not too picky about what I eat. Can't be as a gypsy."

Rosy leads them to the turbolift and Astra braces herself. "You really lived as a gypsy?"

"My entire life."

Rosy looks absolutely fascinated, orange eyes intent. "Incredible. Have you been off-planet?"

Astra shakes her head. "No. But I want to – that's part of why I'm here, actually. I've seen most of this world though."

"You are on the xenolinguist track," Mari'Ahlice states. "Travel must have given you many opportunities to learn languages."

Astra smiles a little. "Yes, it has. I know a lot of off-world languages."

"Prix'arie?"

" _Prix'arie was the third xenolanguage I learned. I overheard a dignitary in a Korean market_. _"_ Astra answers in Mari'Ahlice's native language, her tongue easily rolling around the lilting tones.

Mari'Ahlice's smile is blinding. _"That is the most impressive Prix'arie I have ever heard from a Terran. The accent is perfect._ "

"Thank you," Astra replies in Standard. "I've always liked Prix'arie. It's so light."

Rosy smiles as the turbolift doors close, her fingers with orange-tipped nails pressing the correct button. "Do you know Zaint?"

"No, actually. I haven't ever seen someone from Zaintes before today."

Rosy looks proud. "Then I'm the first. Good!" The lift stops and they step out, Mari'Ahlice leading this time. "What does your schedule look like?"

Astra's brows furrow. "I'm not sure, actually. A few advanced classes, a few beginners. I could check my pocket-com."

"Do that," Rosy encourages. "Mari'Ahlice and I are teaching aids this year, which is why I think they placed you with us. We might be able to help you outside of class."

Astra nods, taking the pocket-holo from her cloak pocket, switching it on, and pulling up her schedule of classes, looking through as Rosy watches – and smiling when Rosy points out that her Sub-Space Engineering and Sub-Space Computer classes are aided by Rosy and Mari'Ahlice.

"It's impressive that they placed you in these classes," Rosy comments as they walk into the mess hall of their dormitory.

"What was your formal education like?" Mari'Ahlice asks curiously, looking intently at Astra's schedule while the three roommates wait in line for the Food-Replicator.

"Nanini, the woman who raised me, taught me how to read and write and do basic mathematics. When she could, she was able to find certain books to further my education, but that was all spaced out oddly. It's hard to find a book on trigonometry these days," Astra answers, her heart clenching at the reminder of Nanini's determination to educate her young charge.

Mari'Ahlice nods, exchanging a happy glance with Rosy. "Then your progress is even more impressive. You should be proud."

Astra offers a small smile – she'd never been particularly good with compliments, especially in a room full of Terrans and off-worlders, several of whom were gazing at her. She shifted uncomfortably with the weight of eyes on her back.

Mari'Ahlice notices and lowers her voice. "One such as you should hold your head high, Astra. You are unique, impressive. You are a gypsy. You have seen and you have known more than most in this room. _Embrace it, Izabela_ ," she finishes, whispering the last part in Prix'arie.

Astra's eyes shoot up, startled at the use of the name nobody knew about – but then, Mari'Ahlice was a seer, a Princess from Piarix. She knew much more than she seemed to.

Mari'Ahlice smiles easily Astra, stepping up to a Food-Replicator and selecting her meal, which quickly dispenses into a bowl, the puréed vegetable soup steaming, the scent both soothing and spicy.

Rosy and Mari'Ahlice wait as Astra orders Japanese sushi, a favorite food of hers when she could have it, and they all move to a small white table, the conversation light, blooming with friendship.

Astra wasn't ever one to feel comfortable around people but Rosy's warmth was welcoming and it felt like Mari'Ahlice had known Astra her whole life. There was no judgment from these aliens – something Astra greatly appreciated.

"So, your planet has a twin?" Astra asks as she finishes her sushi. Mari'Ahlice had sipped her soup daintily, fitting of a secret Princess, and Rosy had dug eagerly into an odd-looking dish from Zainte that smelled of meat but did not look of meat, given that the majority of the dish was _purple_.

Rosy swallows. "Yes. Anzite. It shares our orbit, directly opposite, but is very different. While my planet is a full forest with much rain, Anzite is a desert planet with a thicker atmosphere, making it very hot."

"That's fascinating," Astra tells her, leaning her elbows on the table. "You speak different languages?"

Rosy nods. "Not too different, but distinguishable from each other. Almost different dialects, though the Anzites have a much more…flowing vernacular."

"Why is that?"

Rosy looks thoughtful. "The Zainte and Anzite people once lived together, thousands of years ago, but parted peacefully when their opposing Gods began to destroy the forests of Zainte. You see, there are two separate religions and two very different Gods – amenably, friendly, but opposing. The people of Anzite prayed to a Water God while the Zainte people prayed to a God of Fire."

"Fire in a rainforest?"

A nod from Rosy, a half-smile on her face. "It doesn't make too much sense, I suppose. But that's where the separation came from. You see, the Anzites prayed for the rain, thankful for it, but there was always rain – it was hard to make fire, to make heat. The Zaintes began to pray to a Fire God in the hopes that he would provide them with the warmth and protection and he did – he gifted all of his believers with a psi-skill to create fire and emit heat, for warmth and protection in the forests of Zaintes. This upset the Water God and in retaliation, he gave the Anzites of today the ability to summon water from the air, a particular psi-skill, and to be perpetually cool to the touch. Once these psi-skills manifested, the leaders of the two religions met and decided that the Anzites would be able to survive on the hotter surface of the twin planet, leaving the Zaintes who worshipped fire to the mother planet. From there, the different languages developed."

"That's quite a story," Astra quips. "How does the meditation come into the religion?"

Rosy leans her hand on her chin. "We Zaintes pray to our Fire God, thanking him for the psi-skill to create fire, before every meal. The meditation takes place in front of a series of candles, which we light without psi-skills as a show that we appreciate the gift he gave us. After the mediation, we take the fire back into our bodies to show that we respect Him by using our skills."

"You don't blow out the candles?"

"No," Rosy says solemnly, shaking her head. "Snuffing out a candle, blowing out a candle, is a sin, an insult to the Fire God."

Astra nods in understanding. "And what of the Anzites?"

"Their worship is similar, except that they fill a small bowl with conjured water and then drink the water afterward. It's all about appreciation for our religions, about using our gifts and taking them back into our bodies to be used again."

"Thank you for sharing that with me," Astra says, a genuinely happy smile on her face. "It's extraordinary."

Up until that point, Mari'Ahlice had been quiet, content to listen. Now, she speaks up, a gleam in her rose quartz eyes. "Rosy, you should teach Astra a phrase in Zaint. She does not know the language after all."

"Would you like to learn?" Rosy asks, a soft smile on her face. "It can be challenging."

Astra sits up straight. "A challenge? Let me hear it."

When Rosy speaks, her soft voice takes on a sharper edge – if a language could be the epitome of fire, then the Zaint language captured it completely. Rosy is careful, speaking clearly and carefully, her mouth forming short hissing sounds to punctuate the beginning of the sentence and the end.

Astra lets the language marinate in her mind for a moment, feeling a head-rush of fever hitting her, a sharp pulse of a headache. A trickle of blood slinks from her nose when she speaks, her eyes wincing at the suddenly bright light of the mess hall. _"I thank thee God of Fire for thy gift of spark_ ," Astra repeats the traditional Zaintes meditation introduction, wiping away the trickle of blood, feeling dizzy suddenly.

Her head pulses again, much sharper, with the sudden influx of information – every nuance of the Zaint language suddenly flooding her head in the space of a few seconds. Astra can feel hot heat rising to her head. Her nose continues to bleed.

Rosy gasps. "Astra?"

Mari'Ahlice leans forward, grabbing a few napkins from the table and placing it under Astra's nose. "Let us get her to the infirmary."


	7. Part 1: 7

**7**

_Terra, London, 2620_

"Did I break her?"

Mari'Ahlice rolls her eyes at Rosy. "You did not _break_ her. She has learned your native tongue."

Rosy pauses, feeling Astra's weight on her side – Mari'Ahlice was acting as a guide, holding open doors, so that Rosy, being stronger and able to mostly lift Astra's weight, could carry the younger girl. "Did you know this would happen?"

Mari'Ahlice nods thoughtfully. "This is part of her fate. Astra is talented but she must pay the price for her destiny."

Rosy's mouth pops open, gaping at her petite, overly pink roommate. She had just seen a Terran instantly learn a language, spike a fever, and bleed profusely from her nose – and Mari'Ahlice was so _nonchalant_ about it. "Sometimes, all your talk about fate scares me, Ahlice."

"I would not harm anyone."

"I know that. It's just… _Fire God_ , is she going to be okay?"

Mari'Ahlice studies the pale parlor of Astra's lily-white skin, flushed hotly at the cheeks, a fine trip of Terran-red blood from her delicate nose. Her fingers latch onto the ceremonial beads and bells on her circlet, channeling a small vein of fate from her Gods. While she had anticipated Astra's reaction, she certainly had not been prepared for the _degree_ , which was most alarming. Mari'Ahlice's intuition snaps quickly and she nods at her Zaintes friend. "She will be fine. Please place her on this bench."

"You want me to _stop_ taking her to the infirmary? Ahlice, she needs the doctors at the sickbay."

Mari'Ahlice smiles faintly. "Help will arrive soon."

Reluctantly, Rosy settles Astra down on a white bench, adjusting the younger girl's cloak so her body was covered better – she understood that Terrans felt the chill more than she did. Astra was built with fine, delicate bones but when Rosy pulled away, she felt winded, as if she'd carried something heavy. A critical eye glosses over the girl, Rosy's brows furrowing – perhaps Terrans were denser than she understood. If that was true, she would have to adjust her formulas tomorrow. "Help?" she asks absently, recalling Ahlice's last words. "Who? Or what?"

"Fate," Mari'Ahlice replies, taking a seat regally beside Astra.

Rosy sighs, rubbing her head – she feels restless and begins to pace. When Mari'Ahlice began talking about fate, it was like praying to the Water God to get information out of her – impossible. It was growing darker, especially with the chilling weather of London.

Astra wasn't looking any better as the time passed – in fact, she looked worse, her face flushing hotter, the bleed in her nose continuing. Her head lolled as Mari'Ahlice wiped the blood off her dry lips, humming under her breath in the traditional soothing tune of her people.

A faint smile crossed her face. "Mmmm," she hummed tunelessly. "Wish…my li'lute…could play that…"

Rosy's brows furrow, her arms crossing over her chest. "Ahlice, let's just take her-"

"I cannot alter fate, Rosy. Things must happen as fate decides."

" _Once a story long ago…._ something…I ought to remember…" Astra murmurs, her voice low, a simple cadence. Sleepy. between Zaint and Standard, a language spoken by all planets in the Federation. " _Far away…so long ago…_ glowing dim as an ember…. _things I yearn to remember_ …."

Rosy bites her lip, trying to make sense of Astra's song, unable to find any meaning behind it. _Fire God_ , but she seems like she's in a delusion. And what a peculiar song to sing – it seemed so old, so much like a lullaby. The sun sank another inch and an urgent thread of concern wrapped around Rosy's heart – she'd always had a maternal instinct and Astra was provoking it right now. "Is there a time where common sense overrides fate?"

Mari'Ahlice's pink lips quirk up, her eyes never straying from Astra's face – she looked every inch the Princess that she was. "Fate is more constant than common sense," she says serenely. She had faith in her fate.

Rosy sighs heavily. "Fate sure does take its time then."

Then she hears evenly paced footsteps on the polished floor of the sidewalk and her head snaps to Mari'Ahlice, who has not reacted at all – in fact, Ahlice is again wiping the steady trickle of blood off Astra's lip. Rosy stands straight, protectively in front of Astra – she wasn't too sure about Mari'Ahlice's idea of fate and wanted to be prepared.

Lieutenant Commander Khai – now acting as a Professor at the Federation Academy while the _Nova_ was being built – had his eyes locked onto a black Pad, the fine tailoring of his charcoal instructor's uniform cut to every line of his tall body. He walks with careful measure, not looking up, in fact almost walks past the group of females before he stops.

Rosy inhales sharply, eyes darting to Mari'Ahlice's expectant face and Astra's lolling head – the girl was still singing that lullaby. The tall Zainte woman takes a step away from the bench.

Khai's head snaps up, his ears twitching in time with the slight flare of his nose – a familiar scent, stronger, iron in the air. Blood. Against his will, he feels a fission of distant fear, an emotion that manifests as a pale yellow behind the steel of his eyes. Khai looks to his right. Heart clenches illogically.

It's the girl – the gypsy girl. The girl who claimed the title of his first kiss and the delivery of his first slap - Astra. There is blood from her nose, lily-white skin flushed hotly, the color of a lotus. Sweat plasters her dark hair to her forehead. She still reminds him of poetry.

Part of his brain begins rapid calculations – the time, _dinner_ , the bench, _scant steps from the dorm_ , the day, _the night before classes_. He tries to piece together what happened to cause this reaction with too little information; there are too many variables. She matters to him, in some way, in a way he refuses to acknowledge until he has time to research the phenomenon. An entire second has passed since he took the scent of her blood.

Khai moves rapidly, in a way only a Giidas can, in a way someone genetically engineered to be _superior_ can. The blond female moves away, the pink-eyed one stands. He kneels beside the bench, pale-yellow-steel eyes peering at Astra's face, memorizing the exact shade of her iron-rich blood. His heightened senses can _feel_ the heat radiating from her body – 3.2 degrees too hot – and he can hear her heart fluttering rapidly – 4% too fast. She is murmuring, almost singing a song with no meaning to Khai.

His head snaps up, face impassive as ever except for the slight furrow of his brows, which he works hard to smooth out. He does not enjoy the reactions the girl inspires in him – it's a sign of his own emotional weakness. "What has happened?"

The pink-eyed one wearing a royal circlet from the Piarix planet bows her head. "I am afraid she has had a routine reaction to the learning of a new language. We were escorting her to the infirmary but she is too heavy."

 _Routine reaction_. Khai's mind snaps up the paired words, instantly analyzing them. _Routine_ , something which happens frequently. _Reaction_ , something which is the result of another reaction. Astra claimed to know 77 languages and dialects. _Interesting_. Khai hypothesized that Astra had a brain mutation of some sort that caused a rapid-knowledge-intake in response to a new language.

Khai can feel his eyes narrow slightly in accusation. _Which female taught her the language_? He considered the royal-affiliated girl from Piarix, discarded the thought – Piaries came to Terra frequently and interacted with the Terrans. The Prix'arie language would not be new to the gypsy girl. It was the Zainte female then, as the Zaintes were nearly notorious for staying on-planet, cultivating environment-protection agents for other planets – Zaint would be much harder for a gypsy to come across than Prix'arie.

"… _hold me safe and warm…._ something…. _ought to remember…_ "

Khai's attention focuses back on Astra. She requires medical attention. Immediately.

He stands, leans over her prone body, and carefully tucks his arms beneath her upper back and her knees, easily lifting her slight weight, feeling the heat of her face against the high collar of his uniform.

Astra sighs against him as he straightens his posture. The feel of her breath against his skin sends a hot rush down his spine, which he promptly ignores. _Illogical response_.

"You will follow me to the infirmary and file a report with the nurse," he tells the female Cadets, turning and walking back in the direction he came from, his Pad already tucked into the inner pocket of his uniform jacket.

The infirmary is approximately 5.7 minutes away, 7.8 minutes if Khai is careful of his pace so as not to jar the limp female body leaning against his torso. He opts to take mind of his pace, walking .4 times more slowly than normal. He can hear the _click_ of the Piarie girl's boots – the sound is annoying.

His eyes seek out Astra's shoes, irrationally pleased that her shoes are flat, soft-soled. Ruthless, he pushes that distant emotion away. It has no place in his mind.

"… _li'lute_ …" Astra sighs again. "Play. Please… _li'lute_ …"

Her breath comes in short, soft pants and her body shivers against his; her cloak is doing little to provide warmth. Her knees, delicate, perfectly formed, are exposed, as are her calves, the muscles there relaxed but toned. He finds that he can appreciate her form, wonders if she has a preferred method of exercise. He enjoys running and martial arts, though he would not want this delicate creature _fighting_ against anyone. Just the thought makes his skin prickle with mild irritation.

The gypsy girl appears so comfortable in his hold, completely at ease while leaning her body against his chest. Her heart rate slowed by .5%. _Interesting_.

Astra's delicate hand, fine bones with long, thin fingers, moves to rest on his chest, just beneath his collarbone. His heart, hidden deep in the middle of his ribcage, lurches. Her hands are beautiful, soft, unscarred – remarkable for a girl who grew up as a gypsy. Her nails drew his attention; carefully manicured, shaped to the curve of her fingertip and slightly silvered, iridescent like the females of the High Giidas clans.

Khai's steps falter, slightly.

First her eyes – the unrestrained shift of colors, which the people of Giidalan had worked for centuries to eradicate, but she made no effort to control. Now, her fingernails, a small detail that could be explained by a multitude of explanations – Terran polish, a trick of the light, perhaps an enchantment from her Piarie roommate. Even with all of these more _logical_ reasons, Khai had the unsupported inference that Astra's nails were biological, not falsely manufactured.

The thought made him uncomfortable.

Had the Giidas Science Institute had more experiments that Khai was not aware of – he, as far as he knew, had been the first to survive out of seven attempts. Could there be others, other genetically engineered beings thriving _after_ he had proven Giidas success? He didn't know and that made him uncomfortable.

Khai especially didn't want Astra to be the product of genetic experimentation.

"What is… _Engulfment_?" she asks him in slurred Gidal'su, the language of the High Clans.

Khai allows his steps to come more quickly. He does not want to answer her, especially since she does not seem to be aware of who she is talking to – or perhaps she is. Perhaps he could answer her and she would not remember.

The thought of revealing information, of answering her question, gave Khai a jolt of excitement. It was nearly a devious thing to do.

Khai lowers his head, bringing his mouth closer to her hair-covered ear. _"The Engulfment is a Giidas phenomenon. It is very rare. This-one was told that this-one would never experience the phenomenon. Shan'hal'lak, the Engulfment, is the meeting of souls, the feeling of emotional engulfment_ ," he tells her, his voice low in Gidal'su. _"This-one does not plan to fall prey to the Engulfment_."

One of Astra's brows scrunches up, her eyes fluttering. Khai pulls his head back – surely she was not more aware than he assumed? _That would be most unsatisfactory._

" _This-one_ ," she says weakly, taking a large breath. " _This-one knows not of the emotional engulfment….as this-one embraces emotion. This-one is…disappointed…by the…shun of emotion…."_

Khai feels his face tense up, his jaw ticking as he averts his eyes. This gypsy girl spoke Gidal'su better than he did and he'd grown up around the language – most displeasing.

And that she would _scorn_ him as he carried her to medical assistance. It was bewildering, _confusing_ , unacceptable and yet, entertaining. A very small part of Khai's mind, the part of his emotions that were sealed up in a confined box, _liked_ the fact that she argued with him while delirious with fever.

She had a strong heart.

Her fingers bend on his chest. _"This-one does not blame you,"_ she whispers, her head tilting back to reveal her concealed neck.

Khai swallows, dragging his eyes up from the gentle line of her jaw. _"It is…regrettable_ ," he says finally. He does not bother to define _exactly_ what he meant – there was no need. He would not proceed with this conversation as there was nothing left to say.

He believed that they were at an impasse, though for some reason, that gave Khai the sense of detached irritation.

The Zainte female walks quickly ahead of him, opening the door to the medical building so that Khai could walk through them without pause.

Upon entering the clinic, a nurse dressed in a stark white suit, a Terran, gasps, and rushes over. "Professor Khai, what-"

"Cadets were unable to bring her to the infirmary. She has a spiked fever, high-heart rate, and a bleeding nose, most likely from the fever."

The nurse nods, stepping away for a moment to call a hover gurney to the entrance of the clinic, her fingers flying over the com-unit on the wall. A hover gurney soon appears and Khai carefully places Astra onto the gel-bed; the nurse walks with the gurney to a triage room, the glass doors sliding open. Once she hooks up the requisite heart monitor onto Astra's delicate fingers, she presses her hand against the com-unit in the room, calling the doctor.

Apologetically, she turns back to Khai and the two Cadets. "Unfortunately, Doctor El'zar is not on-campus tonight. There is an excellent doctor in training on call, though, Doctor Carlisle."

"It's Carl, Esmeralda."

The nurse, Esmeralda, looks down, blushing when another attractive blond Terran enters the room wearing the white coat of a doctor. He is clean-shaven, which Khai appreciates, as that is how he prefers his facial hair to appear, though he often has problems keeping his face shaved clean, given his rapid-metabolic generalities. To his displeasure, Khai's face usually had a trace of stubble.

"What seems to be the problem?" Doctor Carl asks, an English accent tracing his words. The doctor peers at Astra's vitals, his hand moving to her face to lift her eyelids.

Khai immediately cuts off the enraged growl that builds in his chest.

 _Startling._ Uncomfortable.

A possessive swell of black emotion threatens to evade the control of his mind – pure rage tenses his muscles and he can feel the primal urge to lunge at the doctor, rip out his throat and smother Astra with his unique scent. If need be, his body was prepared to kill the other two off-worlders and the Terran female.

_Completely irrational. Illogical._

Khai wasn't sure what to think. The emotions were overwhelming, a slinking blackness in his mind, an irate pacing that stole his attention. A monster waiting to be unleashed.

All because of the girl.

Khai's hands clench. He is a warrior, a master of his emotions, a master of many things. He would not fall to this girl or the terrifyingly intense black emotions he felt for her.

And the emotions _were_ intense – the darkest red of raging hate, the deep orange of paranoia, seeping dark green jealousy, and thriving, pulsing deep violet lust, all combined into swirling emotions, blacker than the night. He knew these were emotions he repressed the most, the ones he never had a reason to use or acknowledge.

They came at him with vengeance now.

He would need to meditate as soon as possible.

Khai takes a deep breath, forcing himself to take a step back as the doctor examines Astra's face, her temperature, and takes note of her pulse. The doctor had to touch her – it was his job – and the steam of Khai's jealousy had no place here.

These emotions had no place at all. He'd rejected the thought of _Shan'hal'lak_ – he should not feel so _compelled_ anymore. The situation made him distinctly uncomfortable and he stepped into the hallway, making a point to keep his eyes away from Astra and the doctor.

After a few moments, the doctor comes out of the room, the glass door automatically sliding closed. "Esmeralda, set up the sonic-ray so we can get a look at her head. I want to take her blood, too," he instructs gently before directing his gaze to the two Cadets. "Is there anything I should know? Did she eat something odd, something off-world?"

The Piarie Cadet shakes her head. "She ate sushi. I believe this is the product of an ability she has. Astra grew up gypsy and has not been exposed to any testing."

Carl's eyes narrow. "What kind of ability are we talking about? She looks Terran to me – red blood."

Mari'Ahlice offers a faint smile. "She is omnilinguist and learns languages very quickly."

"Instantly," Rosy corrects. "She learns them instantly."

"Are you telling me that I might be dealing with brain swelling?"

Mari'Ahlice shrugs gracefully. "I am not a doctor."

Khai, on the other hand, is analyzing the situation much more rapidly than the Terran doctor can – if Astra can learn languages, any language, instantly, then the language brain _would_ swell. That type of information storage was meant to be built upon in increments, not in instant flashes. It was logical that her language center might swell, that the swelling would cause a rapid increase of blood supply, the rate of her heart would increase the core temperature of her body and that the core temperature might rupture a blood vessel in her nose. The delusion was a product of the fever, he was sure.

It was concerning, though.

To learn languages so rapidly was a gift – but it had a hefty price.

Astra had bragged that she knew 77 languages and dialects; logically, this exact reaction had happened to her 77 individual times in her 17 years of life; this happened four to five times a year, assuming she began learning languages from birth.

 _Fascinating. Most alarming_.

Khai is reluctant when the doctor dismisses them, but knows that he must leave. Astra will be staying in the infirmary overnight for observation and he was forced to place his trust in two Terrans to look over her.

As he walks from the building, the swirling black emotions protested strongly. Khai was going to mediate. Intensely. He must gain control over these emotions before he next saw the gypsy girl.


	8. Part 1: 8

**8**

_Terra, London, 2620_

Doctor Carl – who disliked the name _Carlisle_ for no other reason than the fact that his name had two _l's_ – was puzzled. No, not just puzzled; it was more than that because a puzzle can be solved. He was completely, totally, wholly confused.

He wasn't new to the medical field – he was a child prodigy, in a way, a genius, graduating from high school at 14, graduating from Oxford at 17, graduating from Harvard at 19, and now, at 24, after completing his residency at a hospital in New York, he was on the verge of graduating from the Federation Academy. He'd accomplished more than most had, educationally, and he had no battle scars to prove it. So, despite his slight obsessive-compulsive tendencies and the fact that the thought of space travel nearly sent him into a panic attack, he was determined to defy his father and do the most dangerous thing a professional doctor could do. He wanted on the _Nova_. He wanted to be Chief Medical Officer. And he was going to do it, even if he had to tap his toes in three-fourth measures for the rest of his life to retain his sanity.

But this – this was something else entirely.

Nurse Esmeralda – Esme in private, just like she _insisted_ – had called him in from his dinner break, a code Green (urgent but not life-threatening at the moment), and he had responded to her beckon as quickly as any self-respecting doctor would.

He hid his shock upon seeing the elf-eared Lieutenant Commander Khai. To his knowledge, the acting Professor only came in once a few months ago – for the very first time – to participate in mandatory health check-ups. Also to his knowledge, Professor Khai _never_ interacted with students outside of classes, even going so far as to refuse a teaching aid despite the heavy load of his various classes.

Carl may have been slightly awkward – and rarely abrasive – with face-to-face interaction, he wasn't stupid. He had three degrees to prove just the opposite.

The girl meant something.

He could respect that.

Clicking his teeth three times, Carl frowns at the basic test results in his hands – _elevated temperature, elevated heart-rate, elevated blood pressure_. All of that was easy enough to treat, with rest, perhaps sedation, but Carl wasn't satisfied with that.

He pulled up her records on his large wall-mounted com-unit in his little office and leans back in his chair. _This girl doesn't have much_. Carl had no records from her childhood – how on Terra did she even get _in_ the Academy? – so he had no way of knowing of any illnesses that ran in her family. Was this something hereditary? He could ask her, but she might not know, either. There was a note in her records that she was a gypsy – probably never had any medical attention to speak of.

Not good.

_Alright, next step then. The full-body scans. Look at those._

"Computer, locate sonic-scan results for patient _78892-A_."

" _Located_."

"Computer, display sonic-scan results for patient _78892-A_."

The purple-tinged holo displayed by the com-unit begins at the feet of the patient – nothing unusual. In fact, the girl was more than healthy. His grandfather used to tell him that doctors in centuries past used to deep patients healthy with a peculiar colloquialism, one that fit right now and came to Carl's mind promptly. "This girl is as healthy as a horse," he mutters, leaning forward to peer at the scans of her heart, which was normal despite the rate of beats per minute.

But then, the scan continued to hear head.

 _Brain swelling_.

"Computer, display brain wave scans for patient _78892-A_ ," Carl says quickly, standing and approaching the new holo. Brain scans were peculiar things but most everyone displayed the same arcs.

Not this girl.

Carl feels his eyes widen as he analyzes the brain waves, how much more active they are than normal Terrans. Much more active. Too active.

"My God, how is she still functioning?" he whispers with disbelief, watching the scan-results of her brain waves spike and spike, expressing delta and theta waves rapidly. She was conscious during the sonic-scan. Waves like this just shouldn't be possible. "Computer, create new holo, display _current_ brain waves for patient _78892-A_."

Carl waits for a moment as the com-system of the clinic activates a brain-wave sensor for the girl's room; when the live results display, Carl stumbles back in his chair. The rate of spikes was decreasing slowly, but steadily.

"Computer, current basics for patient _78892-A_."

 _Heart rate slowing, blood pressure lower, fever waning. We haven't even treated her yet_.

Carl taps the com-unit on his desk, summoning Nurse Esmeralda.

He hears the click of her stimulating white shoes before he sees her full-body white nurse's uniform – even though her uniform revealed every titillating curve of her body, it was the _shoes_ that killed Carl. If he ever bothered to major in psychology – he hadn't as he thought it was a waste of time – he would have the notion that he paid particular attention to _her_ shoes because of his obsessive-compulsive tendency to tap _his_ shoes. Monkey do, monkey pay-attention-to.

"Yes, Carl?"

Carl clears his throat – _really_ not the time for inappropriate thoughts of how Esmeralda's white heels made her derriere absolutely mouthwatering. "Esmeralda, would you take a look at these sonic-scan results. I'm sure my eyes are deceiving me."

"They're not," she says after a moment.

Judging by her voice, Esmeralda was puzzled too.

 _Great. A mystery. I'm no Sherlock Holmes, either_.

Carl sighs, sinks deeper into his seat. "Did you get blood samples yet?"

Esmeralda turns back to him, brilliant green eyes shining, her cupid lips drawn into a small smile. "Yes, I did. Astra is resting still."

"You turned them into the generator?"

"They should be in the system now."

"Computer, display blood test results for patient _78892-A_."

After another short pause, a smaller purple-tinged holo develops in front of the others.

Carl almost falls out of his seat. " _Inconclusive?_ You've got to be _kidding_ me!"

Esmeralda pats his shoulder, the thick layer of his doctor's coat doing nothing to detract from the heat of her gentle hand. "There, there, Carl. I'm sure there must be an explanation."

"I've been studying medicine for the last ten years. I've never come across an _inconclusive_ result before."

"Perhaps the computer is wrong?"

"Computers don't make mistakes," he argues softly, staring intently at the holo screen. "And I don't think this is a mistake. Do you see her vitals, how they are naturally settling? Her brain scans, too, even though they seem to be elevated for a Terran…."

"Are you saying that she might not be entirely Terran?"

Carl sighs, rubbing his eyes. "It's certainly possible."

"Has…has such a thing ever existed?"

Carl's fingers move over his desk com-unit, silently closing down the various holos scattered and displayed on his bare white wall. He leans back in the chair, spinning it around so that he can look Esmeralda in the eye. "I won't lie," he tells her. "In theory, it _is_ possible, with the right science. Several off-worlders, several _aliens_ , have very similar anatomical and physiological make-up, which _could_ be compatible with Terrans. Obviously, if she _is_ some sort of hybrid that doesn't know it, the other half of her DNA is alien. Of course, I could go down to the lab and study her blood and DNA in extreme detail, but I've only ever treated Terrans. I would have no idea what to look for."

"What will you do, then?"

Carl, pensive, taps his feet three times in quick succession.

He does it again, for comfort this time. He likes the sound, always has.

"I'll have to send it off to the Intergalactic Database," he says after a long moment.

As a silent, understood rule, the Intergalactic Database was used primarily for learning purposes; it carried various alien and Terran symptoms and diagnoses. Most Terran doctors understood that the Intergalactic Database was monitored very closely – any research became automatically part of the Database, which was not desirable for some doctors, especially the ambitious, secretive ones. For doctors, the Intergalactic Database was a net; if used to research something new, like a hybrid, the Database would latch onto that information and bug it, follow it around.

The Intergalactic Database was a political trap and doctors didn't like to use it – medicine and politics don't go together. But Carl had no choice. He had a patient to treat and he couldn't do that properly if he didn't understand her biology and he would never understand her biology until he figured out what she was, _exactly_.

Seeing the faint dread on Carl's face, Esmeralda's hand smoothes down the collar of his white coat, fingers pulling across his chest as she circles around his chair, finally lowering herself into his lap – she enjoyed the surprise in his blue eyes. Sitting on his lap, Esmeralda ghosts her lips across his cheek. "I understand," she tells him gently. "You don't want to send her labs because it could put her in danger. She has no family records…so how would we know if someone is looking for her, someone potentially dangerous?"

Carl leans into the touch of Esme's – because she was acting like his girlfriend right now, so she was _Esme_ – hand, his eyes closing, brows furrowing. "Exactly," he responds to her rhetorical question.

"That's just a risk you'll have to take, Carl."

He knows that. He doesn't want to acknowledge it, but he does; his toes tap against the white polished floor, three times in agitation, three times for comfort, three times to express his nerves, three times for comfort again. Esme kisses his cheek again, closer to his mouth, and nerves erupt in his stomach for a different reason. Thankfully, _unfortunately_ , Esme moves off his lap and returns to her professional demeanor, standing several steps away from him.

He doesn't like the distance.

He accepts Esmeralda's logic, tapping his com-unit, sending Astra's blood results into the Intergalactic Database, hoping beyond hope that he wasn't making a tragic mistake.

"Based on her current brain scans, I would assume that our patient will be waking sooner than later."

"I will make adjustments accordingly. I have a feeling that Miss Astra will want to go home," Esmeralda agrees quietly, also feeling the weight of sending blood work to the Database.

A while later, Carl receives a message on his com. _Hemoglobin test results for Terran patient 78892-A, Federation Academy, have been received._

Too late to turn back the clock now.

***N*O*V*A**

Astra wakes to a beeping – unfamiliar, but recognizable. A heart monitor. She doesn't remember much, like how she got here, but the _why_ is easy enough to piece together. She'd anticipated the spiking fever and the nosebleed – all of it was a normal reaction – but the delusional feeling was new.

She had to chalk it up to the stress; a new school, a new life, a new language. Only a few times in the past had she ever passed out from learning a new language but never had it been so bad she required medical attention. Then again, maybe she _didn't_ need medical attention and her new roommates didn't know any better.

None of that mattered now. The room she was in was sterile, cold, more impersonal than her blank dorm room – it reminded her of when Nanini got sick and Astra had to steal from hospitals for medication. It was an unpleasant reminder.

She sits up, noting that she was still dressed in her white dress and dark chocolate cloak. Wiggling her fingers out of the soft clamp of the heart monitor, Astra stands, sure on her feet, feeling no lingering pulses of her headache, though her nose does feel a bit stuffed up. She's completely refreshed, idly flipping through all the intricacies of Zaint, happily understanding sentence structure and dialects while she waited for someone to realize that she was awake and ready to leave.

A young doctor, not ten years older than her, enters the room, blond hair, and blue eyes. His accent is British. "I see you've woken up by yourself."

"Yes."

The doctor stands in front of her, pulling out a thin silver flashlight, moving a hand to her eye, and gently lifting the lid. "Look up. Good. Down…Excellent. You gave your friends quite the scare," he tells her as he steps away, pocketing his flashlight. "Do you know what happened?"

 _Yes, I do. But you shouldn't know too much about it._ "Sometimes, when I learn a new phrase, I get headaches. This time was particularly bad." _There. That's not a lie._

The young doctor nods, one of his feet tapping in patterns of three. "Your brain activity is very strong," he states.

Astra tilts her head. The way he said that…didn't sound like a compliment. In fact, his tone is a peculiar mix of perplexing and accusing. Her lips press together.

"Even now," the doctor says, "Your brain activity is skyrocketing from normal Terran patterns."

"Are you saying something's wrong with me?"

"No!" The doctor is quick, eyes wide, shaking his head. "No, nothing is _wrong_ with you. This seems to be your baseline."

"Okay," she says, her eyes narrowing at him as she slides off the gel-bed. "If that's all, I'd like to go back to my dorm. Am I free to go?"

The doctor nods. "My nurse signed you out not fifteen minutes ago. If I may, I have a suggestion…a recommendation to keep this from happening again."

Astra is intrigued. For as long as she could remember, the nosebleeds, fever, and headache had been part of her life, happening a few times a year whenever she was lucky enough to come across an off-worlder. While the rapid language learning was a clear gift, the consequences were less than desirable – and she was curious as to what the doctor had in mind. "I'm listening."

"You might try meditation," he says eagerly. "You might have the capacity to calm your brain waves through regular meditation, which should prevent this from happening any time soon."

 _Meditation._ That was something Astra had never tried before. She wouldn't know the first thing to do or if she was even doing it right. There was only so much information a com could give her.

"Professor Khai is the best meditation expert in the school," the doctor tells her, continuing on, breaking through her thoughts. "As a Giidas, he has to meditate daily. You might want to stop by his office sometime soon."

Astra's first instinct was to reject the idea completely – Khai _had_ tackled her and then kissed her with no provocation. A large part of her was wary of him.

But a smaller part, with a smaller voice, had more sway in Astra's heart and she found herself promising the doctor to talk to Professor Khai about her brain wave issues. There was no reason to avoid Khai because of some impulsive mistake he'd made a week ago and he was probably the only person who could help her. Astra had never considered mediation for no other reason than the fact that it hadn't crossed her mind – but if meditation could help push back the headaches and fevers when she learned a new language, the slightly awkward company of Khai was a fair price to pay. If she could control her reaction to the rapid-learning, then she could learn even more languages and dialects.

So she nods, and bids the doctor farewell, reluctant to linger in the sterile building for any longer than she really had to.

Astra breathes deeply when she steps outside, her head tilted back, chin to the sky. It was dark – she'd probably been out for a few hours – and it smelt of rain. Astra loved rain; it was soothing, comforting, something she slept through. She especially liked thunderstorms, rare as they were. Nothing made her feel more alive than the rumble of thunder, the strike of lightning, and the shiver of her skin as cold rain pelted her.

Flipping her cloak hood up, the edge handing over her brow, leaving her face in complete shadow, Astra walks towards her dorm, enjoying the sway of fabric around her knees – she liked dresses better than pants, appreciated the feminine feel of the cut. Sometimes, Astra felt she was too hard, too aloof; through clothing, a part of her was expressed, even if it was hidden by a cloak.

Walking through the squared courtyard, passing underneath a willow tree, she notices the lack of students wandering the grounds. Apparently, everyone obeyed curfew.

She takes the stairs instead of the turbolift, not willing to put herself through that vertigo for a third time; the stairwell opens directly across from the door of her dorm, which was convenient. She would be sure to use that later, especially if she was running late for class since it seemed like the stairwell was rarely used.

Astra places her hand on the scanner, waits as it grants her access and, upon stepping into her dorm, cringes at the teasing glint in Rosy's eyes. She hadn't known the older girl for very long, but she knew enough to be a bit cautious. "What?"

Rosy smiles, showing her teeth, which seem to be just slightly more narrow than the Terran dental structure. "Professor Khai was awfully worried about you, you know."

Seated on the square white couch, Rosy and Mari'Ahlice have Terran popcorn settled between them, a holo-vid paused before them. Mari'Ahlice is painting her toes. The scene strikes Astra as so mundane, certainly too mundane for off-worlders, for aliens – yet it seemed like even alien girls liked to relax with a movie, popcorn, and nail polish. _And, apparently, gossip_.

Astra blinks, stepping into the dorm living room, hearing the soft click of the sliding door automatically locking. "What?" she says again.

_Had he been there? No, surely I would remember-_

"He carried you to the infirmary," Mari'Ahlice confirms.

Eyes wide, flashing dark orange with suspicion, Astra looks at Rosy. "I thought _you_ carried me."

"You're too heavy," Rosy complains mildly.

Astra looks offended but does say anything – too busy wracking her brain for any remote memory of Khai in the last several hours. Aside from the doctor and Rosy mentioning him, Astra couldn't recall a thing. She certainly hadn't interacted with him. Or had she? Her brows furrow in confusion and she leans against the wall, fingers rubbing her temple.

"So the Lieutenant Commander carried me?"

" _And_ didn't want to leave you with the doctor! In fact, he growled when the doctor touched you."

" _What_?"

Astra almost couldn't process this, it was so odd. Why would he…?

Rosy waves a hand in the air, her smile turning gentle. "I don't think anyone but me actually heard it. My senses are much closer to Giidas than Terran, so hearing something in such a low range was easy. Amusing, but easy. Is there a history between you two?"

Astra feels her face heat, her cheeks growing hot.

Rosy claps. "I _knew_ it. _Fire God_ , I just love a romance! And a forbidden romance at that."

"It's _hardly_ a romance," Astra argues. "He just tackled me last week."

Intentionally, she leaves out the kiss. Nobody needed to know about that. Astra wasn't even sure _how_ she felt about Lieutenant Commander – and acting Professor – Khai. She needed more time to sort through the incident, maybe even forget it altogether.

"Love often begins in odd ways," Mari'Ahlice says softly, capping her nail polish. She'd chosen a shimmering plum that complemented her iridescent skin wonderfully.

Astra crosses her arms. "There is no love here, beginning or ending. He chased me through the Cairo market, tackled me in the dunes, and then Captain Godric showed up and recruited me. That's it. End of story."

Mari'Ahlice smiles faintly, a knowing gleam in her eye, but says nothing.

Rosy, though, sits forward. "Oh, why did he chase you? Did you tease him or-"

Astra shakes her head with a roll of her eyes. "Nothing like that. He didn't understand what the li'lute was doing and accused me of hypnotizing my audience."

Rosy bursts out laughing. "Now _that's_ a good story to tell your grandkids."


	9. Part 1: 9

**9**

_Terra, London, 2620_

Astra woke easily just as the sun was rising. It had always been a particular talent of hers; no matter what country she was in or what time zone she had just escaped from, her biological clock woke her with the sun. She lays on the gel-bed for a moment longer than necessary, enjoying the feel of a _bed_ beneath her back – a new experience. After a few more lingering moments, she reluctantly rises, carefully pulling her blanket over the bed, enjoying the trite tidiness.

Her hands brush against the short white nightshirt she wore, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, grazing against the top of her thighs. The first order of business was to find the correct clothing in her Replicator catalog.

While the Federation Academy didn't have a set uniform, _per se_ , they did have a recommended style for students. Especially on class days. Astra moves over to the wall-mounted com-unit, flicking the holo screen on and flipping through that specific collection; coming across one of the styles that she finds agreeable, Astra allows the Replicator to _whir_ as she moves to the sonic-shower, eager to get the feeling of the sickbay off her skin. She had not showered the night before, too tired to do much more than find regulation sleepwear and fall into an easy, dreamless slumber.

Her skin fresh and smooth, long dark hair shining, Astra takes the creamy off-white, almost light grey, fabric off the Replicator nook. The dress is a high collar, brushing under her chin, the sleeves falling under her elbow, the relaxed fabric of the hem brushing against her knees; the bright white stitching is visible, a bare contrast to the light fabric. She wears her chest protector over the dress, zipping the silver tightly, slipping her dark chocolate cloak on over her clothes, her feet easily fitting into the boots she'd Replicated the day before. From her desk, she takes the pocket-com and her thin silver Pad, tucking both into the inner pocket of her cloak. She allows her hair free, the naturally straight strands falling on either side of her shoulders.

Her eyes dart to her wall-mounted com, taking the time, mind recalling the configuration of her schedule. She had time for breakfast if she wanted. Astra wasn't in the habit of taking breakfast and didn't feel particularly hungry right now. But her schedule was rather lengthy and this would be her first day, so she wasn't sure when she would get the time to eat again, until later in the evening, of course. Back at the Replicator, Astra flips through the food catalog, selecting a Twi'lek fruit that was similar to a Terran apple – a favorite of Astra's, because of how salty and sweet the fruit tasted and because of how clean it was to eat. It was also very filling and easy to carry. She placed the fruit into her other cloak pocket.

Stepping out of her room, she notes that her roommates are already gone, which makes sense given how demanding their schedules were as third-year students. The third-year students at the Federation Academy had both a heavy load of classes and physical endurance requirements to meet each day; the work was rigorous, tough, designed to weed out those who were unwilling to work for their place in the Federation.

Astra welcomes the solitude, feeling a need to gather her thoughts as she slowly migrates from her dorm to the hallway, down the stairs, and into the early morning. Unlike the previous night, the Academy was bustling with activity, students rushing in one way or the other, several of which were aliens that Astra was familiar with seeing on her travels. It was comforting, for her, to see the familiar facial structures, the outlandish colors of skin, the wider eyes – it made the Academy feel more like home. She hardly garners any odd looks, though she does seem to be the only student wearing a cloak; another student with dark green skin is wearing barely any clothing, the hole-cut-outs in her bright yellow uniform failing to leave much to the imagination, just as many Orions dressed.

 _Everyone defined their own normal_.

She liked that.

Astra takes a slow pace to the tall white building near the back of the large square campus, the building where most classes took place. From what she understood, a large gymnasium was located underneath this building, including a temperature-regulated pool; the first floor was a main lobby of sorts with a small mess hall filled with Replicators; the few floors were dedicated to various labs; several floors above that were the large classrooms filled with chairs upon chairs; and at the very top, the offices of the teachers. Her first classes would be somewhere in the middle floors of the skyscraper, Advanced Xenolinguistics, and Advanced Phonology, both of which she would have daily – after a short break in the middle of the day, she would also take Sub-Space Engineering, then Computer Science, finishing the day with Hand-to-Hand Combat, which she was only partially looking forward to. Her placement tests had landed her in both beginner classes, such as engineering, moderate classes like computers, and advanced linguistic classes – and, as part of regulations, her technical status as a first-year student at the Academy landed her in a combat class.

She didn't feel like she had any particular physical ability that indicated success in that class, aside from her running speed. She hoped she would be able to keep up.

Astra is forced to take the turbolift, given that her classroom is somewhere on the 20th floor of the building – she suffers through the lightheadedness silently. The classroom is halfway filled by the time she finds it and she chooses the first seat she sees, which happens to be near the middle of the room in the front row; she sits between two Terrans, one of which appears to be albino. Oddly enough, none of the students in the classroom have their Pads out.

The albino Terran beside her leans forward. "You're new," he says. "I'm Alec."

"Astra," she replies, carefully arranging her cloak to cover her dress and knees – the classroom was a bit chilly.

"Mid-semester transfers are rare," he states conversationally. "But you wouldn't be in this class unless you had talent, so I'll help you out. Pads are forbidden in this classroom."

"Forbidden? That's a strong word."

Alec sighs, light eyes rolling upwards, white-blond hair falling over his forehead. Albinos were no longer as rare on Terran as they were once before, hundreds of years ago; almost a whole sixth of the Terran population was either albino or carried the gene mutation forward. "The Professor is an odd guy, insists that you don't need to take notes to learn a language."

 _That, I can agree with. For an entirely different reason, of course_.

"Perhaps he's right," Astra responds after a beat. "Language is all about interaction."

Alec eyes her, a thin smirk forming on his pale face. "Yeah, that's true, I guess. I'm only in this class because I'm on the command track and I need to know the basics. What track are you on?"

"Xenolinguistic."

"Ah, the new track, huh? Only a few Academy students are in that one. Guess the Admiralty realized that we have to have better communication on the starships. Why are you here mid-semester, though?"

Astra hesitates with her answer. She wasn't ashamed of being a gypsy – she wore the cloak proudly, finding no reason to hide – but she wasn't sure that she wanted to be blunt and _tell_ anybody she was a gypsy. Discrimination against the wind-followers, against the gypsies, was still strong. "I was recruited in Egypt," she says finally, intent on bending the truth. "I ran into a Captain."

Alec nods sagely. "Spontaneous recruitment. You must be something special then. How many languages do you speak?"

Again, Astra hesitates. "A few."

Alec smiles, a certain tilt to his pale brows giving away his intentions. "You know, I could use a tutor-"

"Cadets, be seated," a deep, far too familiar voice orders tonelessly.

Astra's eyes, a startling light blue, snap to the tall, imposing, irritatingly attractive form of Lieutenant Commander Khai.

Her Professor, apparently. _I knew I should have checked my schedule again._ She didn't like surprises and _this_ was certainly a surprise.

Professor Khai, dressed in a pristine pressed charcoal uniform, the uniform of the teaching staff, stands in the exact middle of the room, shoulder straight. To Astra's moderate disgruntlement, he is standing not ten feet away from her. _Tomorrow, I'm sitting in the back_.

Cadets scramble to sit down, one tripping over his own feet in his hurry; once all of the students are seated, Khai launches right into a lecture of the Prix'arie language. Until that moment, Astra hadn't noticed how _bleak_ his voice was in Standard and Giidas, even Gidal'su failing to bring any inflection into his voice; but in Prix'arie, a language which used lilting trills in musical arrangements, his deep tone took on something similar to emotion.

She had the notion that he sounded much more attractive speaking with tone than without it, even if his normal register, impressively intimidating, was a dangerous attraction all its own.

Though Astra knew Prix'arie – speaking, writing, reading, the nuance of dialects – it was entirely different _understanding_ the language. Khai's lecture was very detailed, because not only did he teach the words, he gave a history behind the words. He brought more life to learning a language, to learning an entire race of beings, that Astra ever through possible.

Grudgingly, she enjoyed his class. And his next one, which took place in the same room – and, if anything, Advanced Phonology was even more interesting. This time, he tackled the brutal syllables of the Me'atalia language. And still, no matter the degree of engagement in the Cadets, not one took out their Pad for notes.

Professor Khai made a point of not looking directly at any of his students; he did not move; his voice did not waver; he did not once stop talking until, right as the Phonology class ended and he assigned the homework, he allowed Cadets to ask questions. To Astra's slightly horrified amusement, if a Cadet asked a question about material that Khai felt was _clear_ from his lecture, he simply replied with, "Pay more attention next session, Cadet", and moved on.

Clearly, Astra had underestimated the gravity of his lack of manners. He was anti-social in the extreme, but intelligent enough to get away with it. She now saw his behavior in Egypt in a different light – she now understood it. It wasn't that he just didn't understand the li'lute – he simply didn't understand Terran behavior.

He was impervious to it all.

That was unsettling. He was young, attractive, intelligent, and devoid of life. _Yes. Unsettling._

Along with the rest of the Cadets, Astra filters out of the room, opting to take the stairs down to her next class, two floors below.

If her linguistic courses were easy, her engineering course was almost over her head. Her instructor was an older Falleen, a race of very symmetrical humanoid reptilians. His tongue only lisped on words beginning with _s_ , which was impressive to Astra. She knew that she would need a bit of a crash course from Rosy if she was going to keep up in this class, even if it was for beginners – Astra had little to no idea of what certain tools were called, which put her behind. She was sure that with a little help, she would be able to keep up just fine.

Computer Science, on the other hand, was much easier – Astra had always been good with computers, after all, and this class was more about programming than anything else. For a gypsy, hacking into a computer was something taught before the age of ten.

Still, by the time she made it to the short break after the Computer Science class, she was starved, munching on the Twi'lek apple eagerly as she tapped on the screen of her Pad, trying to locate Professor Khai's office.

Sometime during the night, she decided that perhaps she _did_ need some help controlling her brain waves. It seemed like the older she got, the worse her language-learning episodes would be; last night, by far, was the worst.

By the time she uses the turbolift to reach Khai's office, she only has fifteen minutes before she needs to be below ground in the gym for her next class. Astra resolves to make this as quick as possible.

As she expected, Professor Khai is sitting stiffly behind his desk, eyes riveted on a Pad, which he seems to be grading; a tall mug of fragrant tea is the only other object on this desk.

Steel eyes look up as she enters the room and Khai's heart stutters for .4 seconds. _Interesting_.

Quickly, he greedily inhales her scent, analyzing it before he can stop himself, which is the oddest behavior. He had not been surprised to see her in his classes earlier, but he did not expect the gypsy girl to be in his office.

She still reminded him of poetry and honey and tea.

He is most intrigued by the length of her straight, dark hair – _had it been that long before?_ It was very shiny, distractingly so.

Though her posture indicates that she is submissive, her expression is challenging, defiant, almost glaring. _Such contradicting emotions_.

She does not wait for Khai to speak.

"Professor, my roommates tell me that you carried me to the infirmary last night."

Khai nods – indeed, he did, and he was rather…pleased to see that she looked much better today, despite the long day of classes.

"Thank you," Astra says gently. Then, to Khai's confusion, her tone becomes almost mocking. "It almost makes up for tackling me in the desert."

One of his brows twitch.

Astra feels a short explosion of victory before she smooths her face out, awaiting his reply if he had one.

Khai, on the other hand, is a bit bewildered. _What an odd time to bring up that event_. He didn't know what to say.

Astra did. "You don't plan on tackling me again if I have a seat, do you?"

His eyes flash orange with confusion, a barely-there tinge behind grey steel. "I assure you, Cadet, that tackling you in my office would be most illogical. There is not enough space for such an activity."

Astra struggles not to roll her eyes as she moves further into the room, sitting own in one of the thin, straight-backed chairs in his office. _He obviously doesn't understand teasing, either_.

Khai flips his Pad off, done grading papers for the moment. He very rarely gave anyone his full attention, especially Cadets who had yet to earn a place in the Federation, but for _her_ he made an illogical exception. She would always have his full attention – very much so against his will.

Noticing that his posture had changed, becoming more direct towards her, Astra locks her eyes with him, determination in the set of her chin.

For a moment, he is stunned by the brilliant, almost electric cobalt blue of her exotically tilted eyes, rendered mute by the fierce _directness_ in her gaze. The color was so pleasing against her lily-white skin and brought out the light brown freckles over her nose.

"Doctor Carl informed me that brain swelling due to a spike in very active brain waves was the cause of my…episode from last night. He suggested I ask you about meditation rituals in order to regulate my brain waves."

Khai is distantly relieved that there was a medical _reason_ for her behavior the previous night but the black emotions she inspired in him roared to life in spite of the relief. Her brain waves were too active, which only lent more evidence to the mix of her heritage – eyes, nails, brain waves. Still, the black emotions swirled, forcing Khai to lock his muscles, his entire body resisting the urge to be _closer_ to her, to inhale and analyze her scent from the spot right below her ear.

She indicated that she was better and it wasn't enough for Khai.

_Most displeasing. Illogical._

"There are several books on the subject in the campus library," Khai offers after a too-long pause.

He is evading her subtle suggestion.

And she, the gypsy girl of unknown origins, completely ignores his silent plea. "I would like you to instruct me, at least once, so that I learn properly."

Khai sighs. Her request is very logical; the people of Giidas had, for a very long time, been masters of meditation. In the infancy of their race, the emotions in the Giidas people were visceral, often too strong to control; there were many unnecessary deaths until, as a people, they discovered ways to control those emotional outbursts. Because of the intense meditations, the people of Giidas completely suppressed the physiological change in eye color in response to particular emotions – and given Khai's superior genetics, his own steel eye color was a sign of near-perfect control over his emotions.

At least, he _thought_ he had near-perfect control. True, he had struggled during his puberty and following adolescence, but since arriving on Terra, his control had been unmatched by any Giidas he met.

Until _her_ that is. He recalls each of the specific times where he had felt his eye color shift and each had been because of this gypsy girl. _Unsatisfactory_.

Warring with his black emotions were others that rioted against the girl, emotions that cast blame on his wavering control because she dared to live. She threatened his status.

And she inspired his perfection. The black emotions brought forth notions that he had to be stronger, faster, smarter – and that if he was _more_ , he would be able to protect her better.

Khai feels the corners of his lips turn down, just slightly. A millimeter of movement. "I have room in my schedule each Saturday at three, for one hour. If you require my assistance still, please come to my office at that time."

The words, reluctant as they are, spark a flash of complete satisfaction in Khai's black emotions.

Astra smiles widely, easily showing off a row of straight, white teeth; Khai's impeccable eyesight catches the .3 millimeter sharpness of her incisors, a trait of the several alien species and most notably his own.

Again, the notion that she is somehow Giidas enters his mind and lingers. She appears very Terran, very _human_ , as did the Giidas people – yet she also displayed the subtle differences between the species. _She could be both_ , he muses silently as she thanks him, standing. _Tall enough but her height is entirely human._

The gypsy girl, Astra, bids him an aloof farewell, indicating that she would see him again in class the next day, to which Khai's swirling emotions pulsed at before fading along with her presence.

Alone again in his office, Khai frowns more deeply – an entire centimeter of movement around his mouth, engaging 23 different muscles.

_If she is both Terran and Giidas, why is she gypsy?_

The question went unanswered.

Too many variables were left out; Khai could not puzzle anything together until he had more clues. For a moment, he considered delving into her mindscape, searching through her earliest memories to find the answer, certain that she had the resolution to the problem hidden within her, yet out of everyone's sight.

The thought was gone as soon as it came. It was illogical to care that much about her origins, especially since he was a Lieutenant Commander and her, a Cadet – it would be most inappropriate to meld with her mind, even more so because it would create a connection between them that was far to intimate for strangers.

As the light of the sun through the large window of his office paints his white walls orange and yellow, Khai loses time, contemplating the repercussions of agreeing to her proposal – the consequences of teaching her to meditate in a quiet, private environment were unpredictable.

Though he was loathed to admit it, he wasn't sure his control would hold – the black emotions were far too strong.

 _This is most unacceptable_.


	10. Part 1: 10

**10**

_Terra, London, 2620_

Upon leaving Professor Khai's office – which was far too barren for her tastes – Astra releases a heavy sigh, leaning her body against the stairwell door. _Gods_ , but did he have to be so…so confusing? So attractive? So emotionless? She felt as if she was being pulled in opposite directions like her mind was playing tug-of-war with itself – she was attracted to him, she was irritated by him, he was exceptional, he was lacking. Astra didn't know which way to lean in her own mind, so she didn't take a side; how could she?

She did know that his spicy scent drove her mad. She hadn't been able to properly focus on it in Egypt – since she was being tackled – and she didn't remember last night – but _today_? His entire office was completely filled with it and she felt as if she now carried the scent on her and she wanted nothing more than to rub against him for a moment so that she really _could_ carry his scent. The urge was downright primal and too disturbing for her to put much stock in, but it was there and Astra had never felt less human.

She bites her lower lip and straightens up. She had a class to get to – she really shouldn't be thinking about Khai.

 _Professor Khai. Lieutenant Commander Khai_ , she corrects herself. He was not a proper subject to concern herself with, even if he was all dark and broody and tall and strong and-

 _Right. Don't think about it. You don't even know him_.

But she did know him, didn't she? She knew he did something illogical, knew that he wanted to help her with her meditation, knew he cared enough about her wellbeing to physically carry her to the infirmary. She saw past his Giidas exterior and the more she was seeing, the more she liked. _Reluctantly_.

Astra's cloak billows slightly behind her as she traipses down the stairs, her flat boots creating a hollow sound that matched the speed of her movements. She was on the basement level in little under two minutes, stepping into a large gym where most of the Cadets were dressed out of uniform. She curses in her mind – she hadn't thought about what to wear during a Combat class so she hadn't _brought_ anything.

Thankfully, she spies a Replicator between the doors of the men and women locker rooms and quickly uses it. Astra dresses quickly in the reinforced black tights and dark green regulation shirt, lamenting at the shirt's too-big size, before dashing out of the locker room to join the other Cadets in Gym 3. She feels naked without her cloak.

Most of the other Cadets in her class are Terran, except for, most notably, the Me'atal male standing behind the Terran instructor

Me'atals, while part of the Federation, are a bit shady by nature; they keep their secrets and are prone to attack without warning or apology. Since the beginning of the Federation, Me'atals had been the rein of military weaponry; they invented, wielded, and taught everything there was to know about specialized weapons.

As a race with no God or religion, the Me'atals were typically viewed as cold-blooded killers who stood alongside the good guys.

Astra didn't believe it for a second – _sure_ , Me'atals could be a tad too blunt and maybe a bit too cold, but no more than a Giidas. And she believed that Me'atal moods mostly came from the fact that their planet was literally made of ice and snow and metal; all of that cold was bound to affect someone, even an alien.

Astra always found the Me'atals interesting – their physiology was unique in a way that no other race could be. The Me'atals, over time, had adopted the metal their planet was famous for and integrated it into their bodies; their bones were made of metal; their exposed joints were made of metal; and fine slivers of metal were exposed on their skin, significant signs of individuality in a race that was both fair-skinned and fair-haired.

The Me'atal standing behind her Hand Combat instructor was, specifically, the most attractive Me'atal Astra had ever seen. Snow-pale skin, ashen blonde hair falling jaggedly around his face, square cut jaw, angular nose, thin lips, calm iridescent blue eyes. Faint glinting of silver scripture creates two straight lines over his eyes, like eyebrows, and his exposed arms were riddled with Me'atal markings of metal peeking through his skin. His build is bulkier than Khai's, only slightly, and he is a few inches shorter, at least; his arms are crossed over his chest and his curved fingers are cut with exposed metal knuckles. His expression was stoic.

The bulky Terran instructor began demonstrating a maneuver that looked simple enough to Astra's untrained eye. "Turn your arms like this, grab your opponent's wrist, and _twist_ ," he says brutally, a wicked, almost sadist grin on his face. "Ja'asper will demonstrate with me."

The Me'atal male moves forward quickly, movements swift and graceful – he is Ja'asper and he stands in front of the instructor. Without preamble, the Terran instructor attacks, lunging at Ja'asper's back; almost on reflex, Ja'asper performs the maneuver the instructor just demonstrated, flipping the instructor on his back.

The instructor laughs. " _That_ is how it's done, Cadets."

Ja'asper steps back, arms once again crossed over his chest.

Astra was impressed – excited, really. It looked _so_ easy. While her only athleticism, this far, was running very quickly, she was certain that this Hand Combat class would be interesting to say in the least. She was looking forward to it.

The instructor proceeds to break down the maneuver for a few more minutes before encouraging the class to pair up and "kick each other's ass".

Astra grinned. It sounded like fun.

Just as she was about to turn to one of the Cadets beside her, the instructor gruffly says, "Everyone but _you_ , Cadet."

Astra furrows her brows. "I'm sorry?"

"We have to place you, first," the instructor grins. "I'm Sergeant Dmitri and this is my class aid, Ja'asper. We've got to place you in a weight class for training purposes – don't want you breaking your neck, now do we, little lady?"

Astra twists her lips at Sergeant Dmitri. "No, we don't want that."

"Excellent. If you'll follow Ja'asper, he'll get you weighed and measured and see how much you can lift and throw, that sort of thing. By this time tomorrow, you'll be able to participate in class. Sound good?"

Astra nods and follows Ja'asper. He is very quiet as she takes her height and weight, scribing the numbers on a pocket-com, before leading her into a very complicated weight room. She was sure half of the weights were for alien usage _only_ , because she wasn't sure if any Terran would ever be able to lift something with such an odd mass. Ja'asper silently leads her over to a simple weight bench, attaching five-pound weights on either side of the bar.

"I can lift more than that," she tells him quickly, a little insulted.

Ja'asper raises one of his metal-tattoo brows. "Can you? I don't think it would be wise to lift so much so soon."

" _I_ am not weak. I can lift more than that," she insists, taking two twenty-pound weights and adding them onto the bar.

Ja'asper looks skeptical. "You'll harm yourself to make a point?"

"Females are not weaker than males," she tells him hotly. "I don't care if it's physiologically true, I _know_ females are just as strong as males, regardless of species. I can hold my own."

"Fine, then. The purpose of this test is to see your endurance and how much you can lift over time. If you want to jump in the middle, go ahead."

Astra's face heats up – she reacted rashly. _Of course, they would want to test gradually to gauge endurance, too_.

For the sake of her pride, Astra was too stubborn to back out.

Still, she was confident in her ability, even if she had never done this before. Carefully, she sits down, ducks her head beneath the bar and adjusts her back comfortably; her hands firmly wrap around the textured part of the metal bar and she exhales, lifting the weight easily. The bar lowers almost to her chest and she lifts it back up, repeating this several times, almost smug by how easy it is.

"Stop. Let me add more weight."

And the cycle continues, Ja'asper growing more intrigued until Astra reaches a limit that is almost unbelievable, given her weight, height, and size – and the fact that she is reported as Terran. While he marvels over the numbers he enters into the pocket-com, Astra, almost gloatingly, grins.

Her face remains alight with a wry smile as Ja'asper times her running laps – this, she knows, is impressive. Astra's body, though growing weary from physical activity that she is not familiar with, is thrumming with energy; she feels like she could run all day, go back and lift weights, then throw her burly instructor over her head and still finish her homework. It's almost as if her body is thriving off the physical exertion.

 _And I never considered myself an athletic person?_ The thought made her laugh.

"Something funny, Cadet?" Ja'asper inquires blandly, looking up from the timer on his pocket-com while Astra performs chin-ups with relative ease. He found her athleticism, as a Terran, mighty odd.

It was almost alien – though, perhaps he was underestimating Terrans. His pride was intact enough for him to realize that at twenty-seven and as a visiting aid for Dmitri he was prone to assumption. Perhaps _too_ inclined to assume.

"That's enough," he says finally. "I have enough information to place you in a weight class, though your physical weight has absolutely nothing to do with it."

Astra drops onto the ground, landing on the balls of her feet gracefully. "Oh, yeah? Where do I get to be?"

Ja'asper's glowing blue eyes, light as ice, stare her down. "I'm placing you in weight class D."

Astra frowns. "Not A?"

"A would have been beneath your potential. Weight class D is assigned to Cadets of your caliber," he tells her, closing down the pocket-com. _No need to tell the Terran girl that weight class D is specifically for aliens. She'll figure that out eventually._

The girl smiles, one side of her mouth quirked higher than the opposite side. "So class D is better."

"More challenging," he says diplomatically, even though, for class rankings, D _was_ better overall since it was much harder to get into.

He eyes the girl for a moment. Slender but not without curves; toned but still rather lean; the average height of five foot seven inches for a Terran female. Her file claimed she was Terran and he had no reason to doubt that, aside from her physical capabilities.

"When do I get to be challenged, then?"

Ja'asper shifts. "As there are no D class students as of right now, your sparring partner will be me. And I assure you, that _will_ be a challenge."

For a moment, Astra feels a flare of intimidation. Ja'asper wasn't huge or anything, but he carried himself with the wisdom of a warrior who had seen battle – which, of course, made sense given he was Me'atal. _Still_ , he was imposing and she had a feeling he would be ruthless.

As quickly as the spike of intimidation appears, it is doused by Astra's own confidence. She'd made it into a high weight class without even trying, really. Surely she could handle whatever Ja'asper threw her way.

Hand Combat class had officially been over for fifteen minutes, so Ja'asper dismisses her to the locker rooms. She has a sonic-shower, changes back into her own clothes, and carries her newly Replicated gym clothes out with her, intent on Replicating a bag of some sort to carry with her from now on.

To her surprise, Sergeant Dmitri and Ja'asper are standing several feet away from the locker room doors and stop talking when she steps out. _They were waiting for me, then_.

Sergeant Dmitri, furrows his brows at her, managing to look menacing instead of curious. "What track are you on, again? I forget the shit I read half the time."

"Xenolinguistic," she answers promptly.

Sergeant Dmitri grins, elbows Ja'asper lightly. "Now that's certainly a surprise, little lady. A D class xenolinguist. Very impressive. Sure you're on the right track? We could use someone like you in Command."

Astra shakes her head quickly. No, she didn't want to _lead_ anyone. "I'm better with languages than gym, I promise."

"I find that hard to believe," he replies lightly. "It's very rare to have truly exceptional Cadets. I trust you'll let me know if you ever change your mind?"

"You'll be the first," she tells him, fully intent on _not_ changing her career path.

Sergeant Dmitri smiles widely again. "Great. Now, get out of here and get something to eat. You'll need that energy, right Ja'asper?"

Ja'asper nods, eyes sharp. "I suggest you eat a very large breakfast tomorrow. Skip lunch."

Sergeant Dmitri laughs. "Already got a plan for her, huh?"

Ja'asper shrugs one shoulder. "She still has a lot of catching up to do before she can join the rest of the class. I intend for her to be ready to start with you next Monday, Dmitri."

"I'll hold you to that," the Sergeant says. "Both of you."

***N*O*V*A***

Friday night, Astra sits crossed-legged on her gel-bed, clothed in a simple white sleeping gown, Nanini's book in her lap. She hadn't had the chance to open the book since arriving at the Federation Academy – every day had been filled with homework, tutoring from her helpful roommates, getting her ass kicked by Ja'asper, who didn't believe in "going easy" on her, and carefully avoiding Khai's blandly inquisitive gaze.

 _Gods_ , but did he look at her like she was a mystery? Astra couldn't decide if she should be flattered or concerned over his apparent… _fascination_. The short breaks between her Xenolinguistics class and her Phonology class were filled with the impassive gaze of the Lieutenant Commandeer. She didn't know what to think. _Why_ was he looking at her? She had assumed, the first time, that his eyes just naturally fell to her seat, so she moved between class breaks; his eyes followed her and she concluded that he _was_ looking at her.

As she couldn't make sense of it, Astra didn't bother to think about it very much. Only when she was alone at night, exhausted from the day and unable to stop her thoughts of wandering as she fell into dreamless sleep did her thoughts trail to Khai. It was the only concession she could allow.

He was too confusing for deep thought.

Aside from Professor Khai's classes, her days were filled with genuinely hard mental and physical work. She missed playing her li'lute for hours – instead, that time was dedicated to figuring out what _exactly_ made the array coils work in her engineering class. Thankfully, her requirement for engineering and computer science was limited; she only needed to know how to repair a communications system on-ship and she was well on her way of understanding that thanks to Rosy and Mari'Ahlice.

Astra sighs, her head bowing down towards Nanini's book, recalling the last time she opened it – perhaps a year ago, somewhere in South Asia. She was too tired to remember.

The book was very important to Astra; it was part ancient language guide, part scrapbook. She flips it open, smiling softly at Nanini's crinkled face. The picture – not a holo, but a _picture_ – was taken right before Nanini passed away. This was the day that Nanini gifted Astra with the old book and asked her to read the passages.

That day, Astra learned three languages.

She withstood the repercussions of such an act with admiral stoicism.

"I hope you're proud of me, Nanini," she whispers to the picture. "You always said I was made for the stars. I'm trying to get there."

Astra's body ached – the cockiness she developed from Monday was shot down quickly by Ja'asper the following day. He was serious about Astra catching up to her classmates. She supposed it was fortunate that she learned quickly because she wasn't sure her Terran body could take _another_ full-body slam.

Part of her thought Ja'asper was doing it on purpose, trying to shape her character enough so that she wouldn't ever get cocky about combat again.

She thought he was succeeding quite well if the bruises scattered on her body held any merit. Which, they did. Truly.

Astra flips to the next page. Arabic. She liked the sound the language made, liked how it felt on her tongue, even if the countries that spoke it were too hot for her tastes.

She flips to a random page, coming across a picture of her from childhood. She hadn't changed much – still very pale, same freckles, long hair. The only sign of maturity she carried now was the fact that her exotically tilted eyes now matched her face. And that her teeth had straightened out. A lot. Her childhood picture is squished between German and the dialect of Austria pages.

She looks at Old Norse next. Though Nanini was Greek, as a gypsy, she knew a lot about the ancient pagan religions. Astra especially liked the Norse Gods Odin and Thor; she found their stories compelling and, when she was much younger, had asked to hear stories about them.

Astra feels the scrunch of her brows and closes the book firmly. _Why am I even looking at this? I know all of these languages by heart. All of these pictures are in my mind_.

She supposes that she feels a bit sentimental. Her eighteenth birthday was a few months off and she was missing Nanini's warm presence fiercely.

Astra smiles faintly. "I bet you would tell me to prove all of these Cadets wrong," she says to the air.

Though her roommates were extraordinarily welcoming – which probably had something to do with Mari'Ahlice's religion more than anything else – other Cadets had not been so kind. Many were offended by her age, especially since more than half of them were well into their twenties. The other half are off-worlders who were put off by how well she was adapting – apparently, _they_ didn't fall into the Academy groove so easily.

Many probably didn't understand that, as a gypsy, Astra was no novice to adaptation – crossing country borders at a moment's notice will do that to a person. She'd been in London before, briefly, she spoke the language well and the weather was agreeable enough. Even being in a school for the first time in her life was relatively easy to cope with.

Despite that, other Cadets were taking notice of her youth and not in a good way. She decided that it was a good thing Ja'asper was the only sparring opponent she could have, because of few of the male Cadets looked rather anxious to show her how proficient they are.

Astra shakes her head, dismissing those thoughts. If someone wanted to challenge her, then she would take the challenge, but she wouldn't go walking around _looking_ for one _or_ expecting one.

She stands, places Nanini's book on the right shelf, and shuts off the lights to her room.

The gel-bed is cool beneath her warmer skin and comfortable. Settling on her back, Astra closes her eyes.

Hopefully, by this time tomorrow, she would be able to end her nights with a proper meditation, because even a Terran like her could _feel_ her spiking brainwaves.

And that was most worrying.


	11. Part 1: 11

**11**

_Terra, London, 2620_

Astra didn't know what to wear. The very little she knew about mediation indicated that her legs would be _crossed_ at some point – so wearing a dress was not optimal, unless she had something underneath it. Besides that, Astra had noticed how warm Professor Khai's office was – almost warmer than Cairo at noon – so she also had to consider the weight of her clothing as well. She had the thought to cancel the entire meeting but decided against that in the next breath; this was for her health. And, coming to that conclusion, she decided to simply wear what she was comfortable in.

After a full week of classes, Astra's nook-closet was filling up quite quickly, with five different dresses, two chest protectors, a bag, and three pairs of boots, all different lengths. The Replicator was clearly invented by Gods. For the sixth morning in a row, Astra flips through the Replicator catalog, picks out various clothing items, and sets the machine to start creating while she indulges in a honey-scented sonic shower.

She dresses in a light-weight lilac dress, the sleeves capped, the hem billowing at her knees; her chest protector is buttery-soft light cocoa with a silver zip; her boots a few shades darker and loose around her ankles; tan sheer tights cover her legs modestly; her cloak is shorter, stopping at her mid-thigh, the color of a dusty rose, somewhere between the softest pink and the gentlest mocha. In an effort to keep her long hair off her neck, she braids the tresses from the crown of her head, twisting and coiling the rope of hair into a simple bun.

Fastening her cloak, Astra steps out of her room, listening to the soft, pressurized _hiss_ as the doors slide closed behind her. Rosy is seated in the middle of the living room, a metal pad in front of her with some hunk of greasy mechanics on top; she wears red-com-glasses, like most Engineers wear when on-ship. "Going out?"

Astra nods. "I have a meditation session with Professor Khai."

Rosy stops what she's doing, fingers clumsy with slick grease, and wipes her hands off. She examines her young roommate carefully. "Is _that_ what you wear to meditate in?"

Slightly affronted, Astra glances down at her modest clothes – every inch of her was covered. She liked the contrast of her dusky rose cloak and the barely-there lilac of her dress. "Is there something wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Rosy tilts her head, a wicked grin crossing her alien features. "It's sexy," she tells Astra with a wink.

Astra's eyes widen. " _What?_ No, it's not," she argues.

Rosy scoffs. "Not _blatantly_ sexy or anything. But it _is_ sexy, in a sweet way."

"His office is scorching," Astra says defensively. "I'm dressed in light layers. I don't see what's sexy about not showing skin."

Rosy leans back, uncrossing her legs a bit. "My people have a ritual when the girls are 16 summers old. They cover us in the orange clay of our lands and dress us in screened cloth, decorating our hair with scorched leaves to represent our Fire God. Every inch of us is covered, too. It's still sexy," she tells Astra flatly. "Aliens tend to like the fact that they have to _unwrap_ a present."

Astra blinks. "Isn't the clay a bit sticky?"

"Oh, I had to bathe for _days_ to get it off my skin. It rained most of the time. But that isn't my point."

Astra sighs, pointedly ignoring Rosy's raised, hardly-there brows. "I really don't understand. This isn't sexy in any way – I'm completely covered, even my legs."

"Oh, I _see_ that and I think the Professor will absolutely _love_ it," Rosy winks. "Another story for your grandkids."

Astra shakes her head, moving towards the door. "I'll see you later."

"Don't let him kiss you until the third date," Rosy calls, her voice following Astra into the hall.

Another female Cadet, Twi'lek, raises her etched brows at Rosy's voice, her eyes following Astra. "Good luck," she says kindly.

Awkwardly, Astra forces a smile and nods. "Thanks."

In the stairwell, Astra heaves a heavy sigh. _Gods, remind me to avoid Rosy when she's working on her projects. She seems to be a bit sadistic, then._

The campus is more quiet, given it is a weekend, and more students were in civilian clothes. Astra had left early enough to give herself time to walk calmly to Professor Khai's office; she didn't want to admit that she _needed_ the time, though she did, to come to terms with what she was doing. Was she truly asking for help? A small part of her doubted the validity of her " _elevated brain waves"_ but the doctor had seemed so certain. The least she could do was give this whole mediation thing a chance – what would it hurt? _Aside from her pride, apparently_.

Professor Khai is sitting primly in his office chair, again with his full concentration on a thin black Pad, an empty mug in front of him. His tousled hair seems more unkempt than usual, his defined saw in sharp relief against that dark, vibrant color. He looks up when she enters the room, eyes roving over her quickly before he nods to himself and stands. Unlike the other times Astra had seen him, Khai was _not_ dressed in any particular uniform – he wore a tight dark grey short-sleeved shirt with the Academy logo and loose black pants, which looked soft to the touch. To her surprise, Professor Khai's arms were _covered_ in thick black tattoos – lines, swirls, dots, all of which contrasted with the smooth paleness of his skin.

Astra was aware that several alien races, namely the Me'atals and sometimes the Anzites had ritualistic tattoos. She hadn't known that the Giidas people also did this – or perhaps it was _just_ Khai.

Without saying a word, Professor Khai steps around his desk, revealing his bare feet, which looked much more elegant than Astra would have guessed – _not that she'd been imagining his feet_. He gestures to the simple gel-mats, black in color, in the middle of the room. "Please be seated," he says blandly, moving past her to prompt the door to slide closed. "Remove your shoes," he adds, almost as an afterthought.

Silently, Astra complies, neatly setting her shoes on the left side of her mat, and sits down, carefully crossing her legs.

Professor Khai moves around the room with efficiency, setting incense, candles, and a small music box between their mats.

Astra feels a sudden bout of nerves crawling up her throat – was he just going to jump into the lesson? She didn't think she was ready.

As if sensing her tension, Professor Khai stops moving and forcefully clears his throat. "Several of your Professors have indicated that the curriculum is not challenging enough for you," he states tonelessly.

Astra feels her brows shoot up a fraction of an inch – _was he engaging in small talk?_ How unexpected. "I feel challenged by the material," she answers.

Professor Khai's steel eyes dart to her face, instantly deciphering all of the minute details of her expression, struggling to ascertain if she is lying or indeed telling the truth. Her expression is too subtly conflicting. "Cadet, are you in the habit of bending the truth?"

Astra tilts her chin up. "I'm not lying."

"I did not say that you were," he corrects silkily. "But you are bending the truth."

She shakes her head. "I don't think I am. The curriculum in all of my classes was difficult to catch up to."

"They are not difficult any longer," Khai says, certainty dripping from his words even if his tone was flat and his face impassive.

Astra feels her expression pinch. She wasn't lying, per se, as the work in her classes _had_ been a bit of a challenge to catch up to. But she did catch up and as of Friday, she felt like she had a handle on her classes. _Did that mean I am no longer challenged?_

She sighs, her shoulders drooping fractionally. "I have never been in a school," she informs him slowly. "The subjects were difficult to catch up to but now that I _am_ caught up, I suppose the material is less challenging than it was."

Professor Khai nods and seats himself smoothly on his mat, folding his legs up so that his feet are on top of his thighs – clearly a well-practiced position. He places his hands face-down on his knees. "You did not answer my question, Cadet. Are you in the habit of bending the truth?"

Astra narrows her eyes, brows furrowing towards the other.

Khai takes a moment to enjoy the expression on her finely freckled face. _Like this, she does not remind me of poetry, but of chaos._

"I tell the truth," she says finally.

"There is a difference between your truth and _the_ truth, Cadet."

She shakes her head. "That's ridiculous. My truth is the truth; just because my truth does not agree with your truth, that doesn't mean my truth is untrue."

_What an illogical response._

Professor Khai blinks deliberately, brow rising a mere centimeter. "Indeed."

With an almost caustic tone, Astra juts her chin out in defiance. "I was not aware I came here to speak of my academics or of the semantics of truth," she says. "I thought I was here to learn how to control my brain waves."

"Indeed," he repeats. He finds her defiance fascinating, even if it is slightly illogical. Not one person on Giidas ever expressed such a thing. "Imitate my position, Cadet."

Frowning lightly, Astra folds her legs up into his exact position, mildly surprised to find out that it corrected the alignment in her back instantly; as a result, her tailbone balanced on the soft mat, her spine was straight, and her shoulders back, neck high. The position was more comfortable than it looked.

She watches with rapt attention as Professor Khai reaches forward to light white candles and the incense, the scent of lemongrass and sandalwood filling the room, along with a subtle layer of smoke. Khai's long fingers press gently against a tiny button on the music box and a slow beat of dark drums, punctuated by a single chime, echoes in the silence. He closes his eyes.

"Match your breathing to mine."

Astra nods, though he cannot see her, and closes her eyes, tuning her ears to the soft inhalations and exhales of Khai's steady, slow breathing. She does not know how long she listens to his breathing, but it feels as if hours have passed while he concentrates on the passing of breaths, her own lungs following his rhythm easily. It becomes effortless to sink into the sound of the drums and chimes; she hardly has to concentrate on keeping her eyes closed at all. She inhales the scent in the room and exhales the smoke. Again. Once over. Another time.

Calm.

Professor Khai's voice is barely a whisper when he speaks. "Sink deeper into your own mind. Think with white, transparent thoughts. Calm the chaos."

And easily, as if she had done in dozens of times before, Astra complies, falling deeper into her mind where everything is silky and cool and white and soothing. She continues falling, never landing on anything with substance, for what feels like a long time.

Then, so very suddenly, she is grasping onto something with spikes, something that marches in straight lines, made of dips and valleys and spires. _My brain waves_.

The brain waves, silvery, tinged with light green, are truly chaotic, constantly moving, moving, moving more than Astra could keep up with. They moved faster than she could see, all spiked and hard – difficult to touch. This was her _mind_ , the most base part of herself, and it was an absolute frenzy.

Sounding disembodied, like he is far away, Professor Khai softly tells her instructions. "Grasp the waves, smooth them out. Calm."

Astra feels a flush of frustration, tainting her silvery-lime brain waves an angry red. How could she grab onto something so wickedly fast, something so sharp?

"Calm," Khai repeats, his voice floating over her from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

She inhales deeply, holding the smoky lemongrass and sandalwood in her lungs as she tentatively reaches towards the spikes. Her head was absolutely pounding with the effort it took to reach them and her body felt hot.

Sensing a change in temperature in the room, Khai's eyes snap open, landing on Astra's face, her delicate nose bleeding again, a flush high on her cheeks. Neither he or the doctor had calculated the odds of her brain swelling _again_ from meditation – though it did make logical sense, as this was a new activity and one that required a large about of concentration.

Still, Khai felt unnaturally tense, a fierce concern for her health, courtesy of the black swirls of emotions, washing over him. His voice is rough when he speaks. "Calm, Astra."

He pointedly ignores how _wonderful_ her name feels on his tongue as if it's meant to be there as much as his sensitive taste buds were.

"Calm," she breathes back, plush lips parting, a slow trickle of Terran-red blood slipping over the curves of her mouth. Her eyes remain closed.

Unaware of anything happening in the outside world, Astra nods and, with a determination that spoke directly to her most base personality trait, she reaches forward, grasping the red-tinged spikes of her brain waves with two hands, immediately halting their progress.

"Calm," she tells them. " _Calm,_ " she says again, in every language she knows. _"Hayal_."

With stuttering slowness, her brain waves, droop, losing their sharp edges, softening to the point that, on the outside world, the hot flush of her skin fades and her nose stops bleeding.

_Hayal. Stillness. Absence of motion. Composure. This-one will have let'thieri. This-one will have peace in this-one's mind._

Outside of her mind, Khai blinks with shock. Gidal'su _again_.

She was speaking the words of the High Clans _again_.

She was speaking words that were specific to meditation, words that were sacred to the culture, and she didn't seem to realize it. The notion was mind-stuttering for Khai.

" _This-one will have let'thieri. This-one will have peace in this-one's mind. Hayal._ "

Khai stares at Astra, unblinkingly. He had not taught her the ritualistic words or the idea of _let'thieri_ – _the sacred peace of mind_.

She simply seemed to _know_ them in a way that was intrinsic, in a way that was built into her mind. It was most… _interesting._

Khai feels his shoulders tighten as he studies the delicate features of her face, the scattering of freckles that was so very unlike a Giidas. Her ears, now that he could see them were only slightly pointed – but that didn't mean anything because Piaries also had pointed ears and he had seen several Terrans with ears that were not perfectly round.

He would think about it later.

" _Nartau t'san s'at,"_ he says lowly. " _Nartau let'thieri."_

The words float into Astra's inner-most world and she feels herself accept them, smoothing over the calming spikes with white-glowing hands; white, the color of balance, the color of inner-peace. The tension that she wasn't even aware of seeps through her fingertips, as if she is washing away 17 years of chaos with one touch. Her brain waves turn a wispy-silver-grey, the color of her eyes; they are pliant beneath her hands, bending to her will.

 _This is t'san s'at_. _This is emotional control._

Astra loses track of the time she spends soothing her brain waves but eventually, she resurfaces - only mildly surprised to feel the dried crust of blood on her upper lip and chin.

Realizing she had somehow gotten a nosebleed during her meditation, Astra feels her face heat up in embarrassment, though the emotion felt slightly more subdued than normal; probably a product of the meditation.

Professor Khai is studying her with steel eyes, betraying to emotions on his face. "You have calmed your brain waves."

"Yes," she answers, her knees suddenly aching from being in one position for so long. Careful not to knock over the candles, she unfolds her legs, tucking them demurely beneath her bottom. "I had no idea they were so…active. I feel much better."

Easily, Professor Khai stands, his quick motion blowing out the candles – _Rosy would be absolutely appalled by that._

For a long moment, Professor Khai, _Lieutenant Commander Khai_ , looks awkward. "Would you…I am extending an invitation to further your meditation tutoring," he says finally, locking eyes with Astra.

Expertly, Astra hides the jolt of surprise she feels at the suggestion, though she remains relaxed, limbs lazy, face eased of subtle tension. She had assumed that this session would be a one-time thing, especially given the sense of detachment she felt from Professor Khai – and yet, he was offering another tutoring session.

Astra reflects on the sense of utter _calm_ in her mind, a certain calmness that had been missing before, a calmness that she knew she would need to find again for the peace was unreal, incomparable.

"I would like to do this again," she answers, wondering how serious he is about the offer. She studies his facial expression but only finds impassiveness.

"I will be out of the country next Saturday," he states. "The next session will have to wait another week."

Astra nods, standing up, testing her weight on her lead-feeling legs. "That's fine," she says. Then, unable to ignore her curiosity, she asks, "Where will you be going?"

Professor Khai tilts his head slightly to the right. "Captain Godric is off-planet, running a route through the Second Zone to check on a particular colony belt. The _Nova_ requires routine inspections and as a Lieutenant Commander, I am more than qualified to assist in these inspections."

Astra recalls the shell of the _Nova_ from her time in Cairo – she had seen it in the distance, even played a tune on the li'lute that was inspired by how absolutely splendid the silver giant of reinforced micro-metal was. It was quite large and, once finished, would be the cutting-edge of technology, designed to peace-keep and save from supernova stars. Since entering the Federation Academy, she had heard many things about the _Nova_ , namely the fact that every Cadet wanted to be on that ship.

Even though Khai didn't show it, she could detect the trace amounts of excitement seeping into his voice – like any male, he loved his _toys_ , and the _Nova_ was the ultimate toy.

Astra slips her shoes back on, offering Professor Khai the smallest of smiles; without realizing it, she had suddenly become accustomed to his presence, even relaxed by it. "I hope you don't tackle another potential Cadet in Egypt," she says wryly. "Most of us don't like that."

Khai raises a brow at her tone – light and air, but with an edge. "I assure you, I do not tackle as a first resort. It is not my first inclination."

He watches as a rather pleasing pink rises to the top of her lily-white cheeks – he decides he likes that color on her skin. "Of course not, Professor. Too much sand."

"Indeed," he replies coolly. "The grains in my shoes did not stop bothering me for a week."

As he listens to her restrained laughter, he concludes that he must have said something amusing. _Interesting_.


	12. Part 1: 12

**12**

_Terra, London, 2620_

Astra concluded that winter in London was much different than winter in any other part of the world she had been in during the season. Even given the miniature Ice Age Terra was suffering through, London remained annoyingly _wet_. Not frozen, not clean snow – no, wet, messy, dirty _slush_ that seeped into her boots. Moscow, she recalls, was practically a tundra, completely frozen over with beautiful white snow, during her time there and it was almost _spring_ , not the beginning of winter. As a personal preference, Astra had always preferred autumn as a season, though winter did come as a close second.

 _Still_ , she grumbles internally as her foot sinks into a four-inch pile of grey sleet, _this is horrible. Isn't the city grey enough?_

A few weeks ago, she'd been forced to Replicate thicker clothes, taller boots, a more sturdy cloak, and several pairs of gloves, and so many scarves she didn't know what to do with them. She wore the long cloak now, hem past her ankles, the color a fetching dove-grey, lined with soft not-fur, heavy as ancient Terran wool but not as scratchy, the clasp hidden beneath her throat, the cloak itself buttoning to her sternum. Instead of a dress, she wore a thick, reinforced black romper with too-long sleeves, a generously high neck that brushed beneath her chin, the shorts tailored perfectly to her hips; beneath that, simple black tights and clunky, flat-footed knee-high black boots. It felt _odd_ to wear something that wasn't a dress, but Rosy had turned her onto the style and Astra _did_ like it for the snow season.

A Twi'lek with gentle blue skin, the same one who greeted her over a month ago before her first tutoring session with Professor Khai, steps beside Astra, her slightly longer legs keeping pace with the gypsy's stomping. I'rii'na was her name and she was very kind, another Xenolinguist track Cadet who Astra had grown to like quite a bit – she was soft-spoken, kind to a fault, but also very clever. I'rii'na was sometimes a very welcome change to Mari'Ahlice's cryptic comments and Rosy's _delightfully_ blunt personality.

"Another session?" I'rii'na asks, her smooth forehead creasing slightly – an expression of inquiry if Astra had ever seen one. I'rii'na wears a dark blue snowsuit of sorts, the tails on her head wrapped in warm grey and blue scarves, an orange Pad pressed against her ample chest.

Astra nods, pausing for a moment to kick the heavy snow off the toe of her boot. "Last one of the year."

I'rii'na's purple eyes twinkle with mischief. "Technically, the _first_ of the year," she corrects gently.

"What?" Astra says stupidly, blinking a few times. _Was it already-_

"Today is the Terran New Year," I'rii'na announces with excitement; a few passing male Cadets cheer in response, one of them bold enough to wink at the beautiful Twi'lek.

 _I guess it is already January_ , Astra concludes her thought slowly. Her time at the Academy had been passing very quickly, several of her instructors scrambling to create more difficult material just for her, her training with Ja'asper progressing to the point that she had been moved to one-on-one sessions with him during class. Not to mention that her Saturday sessions with Professor Khai – which were now, she believed, more of a mutual-meditation meeting than actual tutoring – had become the mark of her new weeks. So far, there had been 7 meditations with Professor Khai, each more relaxing than the last.

"I forgot," Astra offers lamely, after a too-long beat.

I'rii'na's laugh is trilling. "Understandable. The first year at the Academy seems to always be the quickest. Though," she says softly, "You seem to be doing more than adequate…Does the Admiralty still consider you a first-year student?"

Astra shakes her head slightly. "I'm not sure, actually. Academically, I'm doing a lot of third-year studies. I suspect that if the Academy had a fourth year, the instructors would begin to give me that material soon."

"I suspect that you will graduate before I do-

" _Fore_!"

Both girls, alien and Terran, duck before a speedy snowball sails right past where their heads had been a moment earlier. Astra, eyes wide and flashing a color between bright orange and pale yellow, looks to where a group of rowdy male Cadets is sheepishly waving.

"It seems to me that the cold brings out the young children in males," I'rii'na observes dryly. "Even _Twi'lek_ males! _Le'aur'ent!_ " she calls to her boyfriend, a Twi'lek with deep purple skin. He stiffens, turns around, ducks his face. "That was almost my _head_!" she calls across the square courtyard. Sighing, I'rii'na looks back at Astra. "I must depart now. Le'aur'ent must have his memory refreshed of Terran _and_ Twi'lek manners!"

"Good luck," Astra says with amusement, pausing for a moment to watch as Le'aur'ent's face seems to pale slightly when I'rii'na slithers towards him.

Continuing on her way, Astra manages to suffer through the turbolift while stomping the snow off her boots, her mood darkening as she recognizes the feel of her wet tights inside her shoes. _One would think Replicated material would be better insulated_ , she grouses.

Professor Khai is sipping on spicy tea when Astra marches through the pressurized door, immediately sitting on one of his chairs, ripping her tall boots off her legs. _Fascinating_. A single brow lifts a quarter of an inch as he observes her behavior, setting down his tea mug – she appears to be upset about the weather, his sensitive hearing picking up her barely-there muttering about grey snow. _What a most illogical complaint._

He does not comment, though. Cadet Astra had already explained to him that sometimes Terrans complained about things which they could not change, such as the weather. _"We're not Giidas. We don't believe in 'what is…is', not really at least. We like to complain about frivolous things and it doesn't matter if it's 'illogical'"_ , he recalls in perfect detail.

From what he had observed of Terrans, her statement was very true – once, he had even heard a Terran complaining about pollen in the air. _I do not see how that is disagreeable. Pollen is an essential part of the Terran ecosystem_.

Abandoning his seat, Khai silently moves around his desk, standing at Cadet Astra's side. "Cadet. Is there an issue?"

Astra sighs, leaning her head against the tall back of his chair. "Professor. Have you almost been nearly clocked with a snowball?"

Professor Khai furrows his brows. "I do not understand your verb usage. _Clocked_. Explain," he demands mildly.

Astra quirks a brow at him, explaining, " _Clocked_. Hit with something, usually on the head."

"I see," he replies, filing the verb _clocked_ into his memory, wondering if Captain Godric is aware of this word and its meaning. "To answer your question, no, I have never been… _clocked_ or nearly _clocked_ with a snowball. Has this happened recently?"

She waves her hand with a dismissive gesture. "It's not a big deal, but I think my having to stop and duck in order to _avoid_ getting hit with a snowball is what gave that grey sludge outside the time to infiltrate my stockings."

 _Interesting_. _She seems almost annoyed by this development._

"This sludge that you refer to is not sentient, therefore it cannot infiltrate-"

"Professor," she interrupts, standing on his smooth floor with freezing does. "Would you mind terribly if I took a trip to the restroom?"

"Of course not," he replies, blinking when she side-steps him and rushes out of the room. Minutes later, he is still standing in the same spot, and Astra has come back into his office, her legs bare of the stockings, fabric balled in her fist.

Khai's mouth becomes dry, his heart rate increasing by 6%, his temperature rising 2. 4 degrees – and, most humiliatingly, he can feel his purple blood rising to his cheeks. _I want to touch her skin_ , he thinks hungrily, his legs and hands twitching against his stronghold over his body. He struggles to remove his eyes from perfectly smooth lily-white skin, the gentle curve of her calves, and the delicate structure of her ankles.

Using his superior Giidas control, he forces his eyes away from her revealed flesh and, for a moment, focuses on stabilizing his metabolic functions; Khai studiously ignores the hot throb beneath his abdomen.

He clears his throat. "Shall we begin?"

Instead of answering verbally, as he had hoped - usually, the sound of her voice, the accent influenced slightly by her travels, calmed him – Astra nods, gracefully lowering her body to the mediation mat she always used, her long legs easily folding into the proper position. She closes her eyes, shoulders straight and relaxed, palms on her knees.

For a moment, Khai forgets that he is supposed to be lighting the candles and incense – as illogical as it is, he is having a difficult time removing his eyes from her person, steel irises absorbing every plane of skin, each individual freckle over her nose, her plump lower lip that he remembered was _so soft_.

"Professor?" she prompts with her eyes closed.

Khai snaps out of his admiration, feeling mildly flustered as he hurries through the room, tapping the music-box to begin the steady drumbeat, and quickly lighting the white candles and lemongrass. He sits across from Cadet Astra on his own mat, his posture exactly like her own, and, for the second time in his life, finds trouble centering himself for meditation; in fact, the last time this had happened was when Astra had spoken the Gidal'su in deep mediation during their first session. The sessions following had been much easier for him to participate in and he hadn't had any trouble – until now. He can't seem to take his eyes off her face, much to his distant irritation.

 _Highly illogical_.

He feels thoroughly unsettled for no reason he can ascertain when Cadet Astra leaves his office after her meditation, her scent of tea and honey clean with the peace brought by meditation.

Khai stands in the middle of his office, blankly staring at the wispy grey smoke of the cooling incense. His com-unit rings and he straightens, almost automatically moving towards it.

Captain Charles Godric's face, weathered only slightly by time, as he was still rather young in both Terran and Giidas terms at the age of thirty-one, is smiling at him. "Khai! I managed to get shore-leave for the holiday."

"Holiday, Sir?" Khai inquires dully.

"New Years! A time for celebration, especially since I just made it home from the black abyss safely! Let me take you out tonight – we'll paint the town red."

Khai's brows furrow, his head tilting to the side. "Why would we want to paint London red, Sir?"

***N*O*V*A***

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Astra says wryly. "I've never even celebrated this holiday and _both_ of you are from other planets."

"I was told that all Terrans celebrate New Years…Is there something wrong with you?" Rosy asks bluntly.

"What are you implying-"

"I knew you would agree," Mari'Ahlice chimes in helpfully, the circlet on her head chiming. "You look wonderful in white."

"Thanks," Astra replies, slightly uncomfortable on many different levels – the most prominent level, of course, being the amount of skin she was talked into revealing. Rosy, as warm as she could be, could also be terribly frightening and Astra did not intend to be threatened with a wrench _twice_ in one night, so she said nothing.

Mari'Ahlice had picked out the dress and while it was tasteful, it was rather short. And tight. The one saving grace was the high neck of the dress – and the fact that Mari'Ahlice was kind enough to replicate a short cropped cloak for Astra. Of course, _cloak_ was a bit of a stretch since the thin white fabric only fell to her elbows – still, she was more covered than both Rosy and Mari'Ahlice.

Rosy had heard from a group of Engineering Cadets about a club in West London that was popular among Academy students – especially on holidays where alcohol was involved. And, of course, Mari'Ahlice had known about it as soon as Rosy did; Astra was the one who was ambushed after her meditation session.

The club itself is nondescript and makes good use of black lighting; Astra's dress seems to glow against her skin. Rosy leads their small group towards the bar, ordering a round of very strong, very sweet Zainte liquor, which had an undercurrent of spiciness that made Astra's mouth pinch. Swallowing reflexively, the gypsy girl turns accusative eyes on Rosy's innocent face. Just as she is about to confess that she has _never_ had any liquor before, she is pulled into a dance with an unnamed young man, who she suspects might be a Cadet – tall, broad, handsome in a completely disappointing Terran way. The music played in the club is so unlike any she is used to; it is not soft like her li'lute or soothing like the meditation pieces Professor Khai plays.

Astra falls easily into the thrill of the beat, lightheaded from the alien alcohol, her arms above her head while her hips sway. Her partner is enthralled, crowding her space, his body much too cool for Astra's tastes – she wants to dance with someone _warmer_. She pulls away from him after another few songs, her heart racing high, a thin sheen of sweat on her body. "Thirsty," she calls over the music, waving a hand over her flushed face, gently extracting her wrist from his clutches.

She weaves between bodies, unfastening her cloak as she gets closer and closer to the bar. The alien alcohol has made its way through her system quickly, especially since she hadn't eaten since lunch – all Astra knows is that she's thirsty and that, somehow, she lost track of her friends. "A shot of somethin' sweet," she requests at the bar, leaning forward on her elbows. The bartender seems amused as he nods, mixing something up that appears to be bright purple and setting the small glass before her with a flourish. "Thanks," she murmurs, sipping the drink quickly. It's tangy – Astra likes that. "Another?

"Sure, kid. But take it easy on this one. You might not be able to taste the liquor, but it's there."

"I'm fine," she insists, snapping her eyes open. She feels so dizzy and the room is so warm. A head of riotous dark reddish hair catches her attention. "Professor!" she calls across the circular bar. "Lieutenant Commander!"

Khai's head snaps up, his eyes settling on a symmetrical lily-white face decorated with freckles over her nose and glitter over her eyes.

Captain Godric, sitting beside him, whistles lowly. "Isn't she a little young for this place?"

Stiffly, Khai replies, "She is." _And she is clearly intoxicated_.

His steel eyes widen slightly when he notices that Cadet Astra is approached by another Cadet – another _male_. Her attention is no longer on him, much to his confused displeasure. The Cadet is gesturing to the writhing bodies on the dance floor and Astra nods, abandoning her drink. Khai's sharp eyes land on the Cadet's possessive grip on the gypsy's wrist and, before he can even contemplate suppressing it, a growl, a low warning, rips from his chest.

Captain Charles Godric studies Khai's suddenly tense posture, his pinched face, the muscle ticking in his jaw; his eyes follow the Lieutenant Commander's and he stifles a laugh. _Someone is jealous_. It was a curious development, though perhaps it shouldn't have been a surprise. After what happened in Egypt, Khai hadn't mentioned Astra once – hadn't even acknowledged the kiss _or_ the slap that happened in the sand dunes. But the Captain should have suspected that something like this would happen eventually, especially given how odd the entire Egypt ordeal had been for the Lieutenant Commander. Still, the Captain hadn't expected for Khai to develop feelings so soon – and he very strongly suspected that even _Khai_ didn't realize what this expression of jealousy meant.

Captain Godric sighs, resigned to assisting his younger friend. "Ah, don't look so put out, son," he says, slapping Khai on the back, his hand protesting as his fingers meet unyielding muscle and bone. _Denser body – remember that_.

He watches with amusement as Khai forcefully schools his expression. "I am not, as you say, _put out_. In fact, I am inside, so your comment is quite illogical-"

"If you don't want her dance card filled up with other names, you better hurry and sign up," Captain Godric interrupts hastily.

Khai tilts his head at him. "Captain, what is a dance card?"

Charles Godric takes a long drink of his ale. "Ancient Terran custom," he answers. "Suitors of young ladies would put their names on her dance card so that they could dance with her."

"I see," Khai replies slowly, his head turning to observe the way Astra's body swayed with the Cadets. Another low growl rips from his chest when his sharp eyes catch the Cadet's hips pressing against hers.

Khai is out of his seat and approaching the dancers before he can truly comprehend his actions. _Most unsettling._ However, he continues on his path, his tall body brushing past inebriated dancers. He feels a trace of amusement when the Cadet dancing with Astra stiffens, his hand darting into a salute. "Lieutenant Commander," he says stiffly in greeting.

Almost lazily, Astra stops dancing and Khai has the opportunity to see all of her exposed skin in the black light of the dance floor. _Too much skin_ , he thinks with heat, some part of him boiling at the thought of other males seeing the smooth skin of her thighs.

"Cadet," he answers blandly. Khai then proceeds to completely turn his back to the male Cadet, managing to put his own body between the students so that Astra is forced to look _only_ at him. Distantly, he feels an immense swell of satisfaction when she smiles softly at him. _Interesting_.

"Hi, Professor."

He nods at her silently, taking note of her dilated pupils. "You are intoxicated."

Astra's face blushes hotly, pink pushing against her cheeks before her face pales, her brow furrows, and she sways to the side. A delicate hand pushes against her temple. "I…don't feel well all of the sudden. Are the walls moving, Professor?"

"Negative, Cadet. The walls are not sentient, therefore they cannot move," he replies impassively, wondering why she couldn't seem to grasp the concept of inanimate objects being incapable of movements or plans of _infiltration_.

Astra shakes her head. "I want to go home," she says aloud, voice wavering slightly. Though she had never been drunk in her entire life, she knew, without a doubt, that she was _very drunk_ _now_.

A green tinge passes through Khai's steel-colored eyes and his expression turns calculating. "It is late," he says, recalling that it was an acceptable Terran custom to walk a young female home after the sun has set. "I will escort you home."

"My roommates-"

"It's fine!" Mari'Ahlice says breathlessly, rose quartz eyes wide and shining as she pops into the conversation seemingly out of nowhere. "Go on home. Sleep it off. Thanks, Lieutenant Commander!"

She disappears and, before Astra can protest, her elbow is hooked with Khai's. She stumbles over her feet slightly when he suddenly stops at the bar, picking up her cloak and quickly fixing it over her shoulders, drawing the hood up; then his deliciously hot fingers are wrapped around her cloak-covered elbow and he is leading her out of the club and into a hover taxi. She loses track of time and track of her mouth, babbling drunkenly – and embarrassingly – to her Professor as the hover taxi speeds back to the Academy. She continues to talk, switching into Twi'lek and Prix'arie, as Professor Khai escorts to the Academy entrance, his elbow locked with hers.

Though he finds her behavior amusing, he cannot stand to listen to her nonsensical musings any longer. "Cadet," Khai interrupts suddenly, his face turned away from hers. "Do you know the reason why Giidas are so intelligent? We have access to each neuron and synapse in our brains – total and immediate access to a full 99% of our brain's capabilities. Unlike the Terran brain, of which Terrans can only access 11% of, even a newborn Giidas fires every individual neuron at the same time."

Astra blinks, mind still reeling from the fuzzy effect of the alcohol she drank earlier; the chill of London's slushy winter is finally getting reaching her senses as she clutches the short white cloak closer to her body, her head covered securely by the deep hood. "Is that why you meditate?" she asks slowly, carefully pronouncing each word with her lazy tongue.

Khai nods once, arms stiff at his sides as they approach her dorm building. "Indeed."

The sky lights up with fireworks and Astra turns a gentle smile on Khai. "Happy New Year, Professor," she says, rocking onto the balls of her feet to press a short kiss onto his cheek.

Khai feels his heart rate elevate by 5%, a reaction that does not wane until long after Astra is in her building, safe from the cold and likely sleeping. _Fascinating._


	13. Part 1: 13

**13**

_Terra, London, 2621_

"I don't understand how you can eat that," Astra says, closing her eyes and turning away from the slightly macabre sight. "Ja'asper, it's not even cooked."

Ja'asper's metal-knuckled fingers clench the cool, meaty slab in his hand, examining the bright orange color. "It's cooked perfectly," he insists.

"If by _perfectly_ , you mean _not cooked at all_ , then, yes Ja'asper, it's cooked _perfectly_."

The sight was truly revolting – to Astra, at least. She wasn't sure what exactly her friend was eating, just that it was meaty, excessively bloody, and definitely not cooked. The Me'atal people were widely known for their metal-laced bones and their carnivore appetites, as well as their skills with weaponry and military strategy, and Ja'asper was no exception. She should have been used to his odd tastes by now since she had made a habit of eating lunch with him on Sundays before an extra sparring session, but seven weeks wasn't enough for her weak stomach. Apparently.

He swallows, putting down his meat-on-meat sandwich. "Vegetarians," he sighs. "Always so queasy at the sight of a little blood."

"It's practically _raw_!"

"And what are _you_ eating?" Ja'asper asks pointedly, gesturing to her obscure, hard-to-pronounce, colorful Falleen salad. _I don't think I've ever seen this girl eat a damn Terran dish_.

"This has amazing amounts of protein in it," Astra says defensively. "And everything is cooked."

Ja'asper snorts, tearing into his meat-sandwich again – he really liked the Terran _cow_ , the animal that made the loud, long noises. "Vegetarians. Always so judgmental."

"I'm not a vegetarian," Astra corrects. "I just don't eat meat, aside from fish….sometimes."

"Right," Ja'asper agrees dryly. "With the amount of training you're doing, you need to have a higher protein intake. I'm not convinced that your weak Terran body is receiving the proper nutrients to keep up with the demands-"

"Wait," Astra interrupts, setting down her salad container, Ja'asper's words slowly penetrating her mind. "My _weak_ Terran body? Didn't I just knock you down not half an hour ago?"

"I _let_ you knock me down," Ja'asper claims arrogantly, his ash-blond hair falling into his eyes.

"Liar, take that back-"

"Ah, Cadets," a voice cuts in. Sergeant Dmitri clears his throat, his expression guarded. "I wasn't expecting anyone in the gym on a Sunday."

Behind the Sergeant, several Federation Officers are carrying in bulky metal boxes, a few officers for each box. Astra's eyes follow their movements closely, bright orange irises shining with curiosity and intent interest. Several of the officers eye Ja'asper and Astra oddly and she has the sudden notion that she _shouldn't_ be seeing this.

"Sorry, Sergeant," Ja'asper apologizes, rising from the low bench he and Astra had been sharing. "We've been in the gym every Sunday without issue. Shouldn't have assumed it was okay-"

" _Every_ Sunday, Cadets?" Sergeant Dmitri interrupts, his eyes turning on Astra. "That would explain your quick progress Cadet Astra."

She stands as well, suddenly feeling very small between Ja'asper's height and the Sergeant's. "I needed to catch up," she offers. "Ja'asper has been a huge help."

Sergeant Dmitri nods, a wide smile crossing his face. "You did need the tutoring," he agrees. "Ja'asper, would all of this extra practice explain why you knocked me on my ass in front of my students on Friday?"

"It was easy, Sergeant."

"You wound my pride!"

An officer steps up beside the Sergeant, handing him a portable Pad; Dmitri looks down at it with interest, nodding to himself. Handing the Pad back to the officer, a calculating gleam enters his eyes. "Since you're both here, would you like to take a look at the Advanced Combat weapons?"

Ja'asper's icy blue eyes widen slightly, betraying his excitement. "I wouldn't mind."

"Very well," Sergeant Dmitri answers, stepping to the side and popping open one of the large metal boxes. "Officers, open the rest of these," he orders briskly.

Inside the first metal box are the regulation laser guns, the size of rifles and gleaming black; the next box is also laser guns, this time hand-held; the third box is a double-edged silver knife, which Astra recognized to be made of metal from the Me'atal planet; the fourth box held a cross-bow looking weapon that was popular on Zainte and Anzite; the fifth box, slightly smaller than the others before it, held a curved knife, a traditional Giidas weapon inlaid with lasers. It was the final box, the smallest of all, and the box made of the thickest metal, which drew Astra's intense concentration. Sergeant Dmitri opened the box with a flourish, revealing simple cylindrical pieces of metal that looked about 10 inches long.

She had never in her life seen such a benign weapon and looked at the Sergeant with clear inquisition in her eyes.

Sergeant Dmitri grins. "These, Cadets, are the most coveted weapons in the Federation. Fairly new, incredibly deadly – only a few of the Admiralty ever wield this and _I_ get to teach a select few Cadets how to, as the Federation had begun to integrate them onto starships."

"What are they, Sergeant?" Ja'asper asks dryly, an undercurrent of amusement lacing his tone.

"These, Cadets, are _sabers_."

Astra stares down at the sabers and a jolt of excitement runs through her blood. She wants one.

***N*O*V*A***

Monday morning, Astra was reluctant to rise from bed. Her excitement from seeing the sabers and the entire drunken night of Saturday, the day which she had the gall to kiss a commanding officer, had pushed her Terran body to the point of exhaustion. Besides that, she was a gypsy, and while that caused her to be a naturally early riser, it also instilled a quiet sense of independence in Astra – _she_ decided where she went and when she was going to get there. Being on a constant schedule was finally catching up to her, making her restless in a way that was too familiar. Had she been traveling, she would have decided that it was time to move onto another country, another city, another dialect.

From her warm gel-bed, Astra looks longingly at her li'lute – when was the last time she had played the charming crystal instrument? As she struggled to remember, Astra came to the decision that she would need to put more time into remembering her past and where she came from. That thought triggered a little rebellion in her heart, planting the idea that perhaps, just this once, she would skip class, maybe even skip the whole day. What was she going to class for, anyway? She already surpassed most of the students in all of her subjects, _including_ engineering and computers, and her professors had yet to challenge her, truly challenge her. Astra wasn't struggling, even when all signs pointed to the fact that perhaps she _should_ be struggling, given that she hadn't had one minute of formal education until seven weeks ago. If she gave herself time to think about it, she might have felt a hint of worry creeping up her spine.

But she didn't think about that, so she had no reason to be alarmed. All she could think about, it seemed, was her li'lute, the saber, and Professor Khai.

The longing she felt for the li'lute she could understand; it was such an integral piece of her life for so long. The li'lute gave her shelter, guided her on the wind, and fed her starving stomach – the li'lute was her freedom. Similarly, the longing she felt for the saber was a longing she had very little words for, aside from simply knowing that, despite the apparent difficulties in wielding the coveted weapon, she, a Xenolinguist, would have one strapped to her hip – the saber was her future.

However, the longing, which steadily grew to the point of confusion, for Professor Khai, for Lieutenant Commander Khai, was nearly vexing. She wasn't sure what he meant to her – a mentor? _No_ , that wasn't quite right. He was more than a teacher to her. She couldn't put a neat label beneath his face in her mind because he simply didn't have a label. Even outside of her growing feelings towards him, Professor Khai was a complex individual, both in his past and in his present and in the way he treated her. Walking her home from a club was a step beyond what most teachers would do and Khai had _only_ offered to escort her home. Clearly, she also had a similar place in his mind, a place that was probably also lacking a clear label.

Astra sighs, rolls over and buries her head in her soft pillow. _It's too early to be thinking about things that potentially don't matter_. _I shouldn't be thinking about these things at all, even if they don't matter. It's…extremely inappropriate._

A flash of shame washes over her – she'd been _very_ inappropriate with the Lieutenant Commander on Saturday, kissing him as if she had the right to. Even a kiss on the cheek was several steps too far, regardless of how odd his offer to escort her home was. Still, she remembers his warm skin beneath her lips and his distinct masculine scent right beneath her nose. Could someone smell warm? His mere scent inspired all kinds of warm feelings in her – thoughts of warm deserts, the tropics of Hawaii, hot drinks in the depths of winter. She tries to push those thoughts away, but they come back, warmer than before. _He's so warm_ , she thinks hopelessly, forcing her face harder into the pillow.

She didn't want to be thinking these thoughts. She wasn't ready for them but they were persistent. Astra groans into her pillow, kicking her legs in frustration before relaxing her body and accepting the inevitable – if she wanted to evade the thoughts, she could no longer avoid getting up and getting ready for class.

Astra ignores the cool chill of the floor when she stands, going straight to the sonic-shower, using the few minutes to clear her mind. She dresses in a thick dusty rose dress with long, tight sleeves passing her wrists, a square neckline, the skirt belling from her hips, the hem ending just past her knee. Her legs are warmly encased in thick nude tights, knee-high mocha boots on her feet, her chest zipped into the soft brown chest protector. Just as she clasps the dove-grey cloak, her pocket-com chimes from the desk.

Her brow furrows – her pocket-com was very rarely used, especially since she actually preferred the sleek silver Pad due to the larger screen. Almost cautiously, she picks up the com, flicking it on, and watching the purple-tinged holo-screen appear.

_ONE NEW MESSAGE_

Astra's finger presses against the hologram; the screen flicks to a holo-vid showing a frighteningly familiar alien face.

Admiral Caius. A Falleen in his prime with a vaguely reptilian face and dark, fathomless eyes. Admired by many, feared by all. A ruthless leader of the Federation, who led the space-exploring and peacekeeping fleet of ships with a firm, wise hand. He was formidable; a legend on his planet, but Astra didn't believe all of the rumors. The one time she'd met him, she had been intimidated and he had been warm beneath the icy, hard exterior, giving her mixed signals. Astra felt like she should trust him – the question was whether she _should_ , though as of now, she didn't have any reason _not_ to.

" _Cadet, report to the Admiration at 1100 hours. Be prompt. We have much to discuss_."

Her stomach drops and her mind races, wracking itself for _something_ that could explain why she was being summoned to the Admiration, a towering stark white building in North London. She'd never even _been_ to the Admiration, but she and every Cadet at the Academy knew where it was – and usually, good things did not come from that building, not for Cadets anyway. If a Cadet was called to the Admiration, they could expect to be expelled.

But that was where the confusion came in; from what she knew, the only Cadets who were called to the Admiration to be discharged were also Cadets who were failing in many courses or Cadets who had infringed on regulation. She didn't fit into either of those categories.

Was the summons _good_ , then? She was tempted to ask Mari'Ahlice, but pushed the thought away as quickly as it had come – Ahlice wasn't in the habit of revealing information that could alter futures unless it was through some ambiguous comment that didn't make sense at the time.

Steeling her nerves, Astra tucks the pocket-com into her cloak inner-pocket, stepping towards her door. She pauses. On impulse, her fingers close around the case of her li'lute = instinct told her she would need it.

Neither of her roommates is present, much to her relief, as she wasn't sure she could hold back the anxiety bubbling in her chest. She walks quickly through the square campus and waits at the hover-bus stop down the street, her fingers running over the smooth case of the li'lute. On the bus, her foot taps quickly, keeping a rhythm that does nothing to alleviate her anxiety – to keep her head steady, she begins to conjugate verbs in the various languages she knows, the activity occupying her mind enough that she almost misses her stop.

Outside of the Admiration building, she releases a deep breath, ignoring the inquisitive glances of the uniformed Federation officers. _Whatever happens, I am a gypsy, I move with the wind._

Astra repeats Nanini's token quote again, murmuring under her breath as she moves into the building. " _Whatever happens, I am gypsy, I move with the wind_."

She approaches the information desk, standing quietly while they confirm her identity and give her directions to Admiral Caius' conference room. On the turbo lift, she translates Nanini's quote into Gidal'su, the language she was most comfortable with. " _No matter what occurs, this-one is gypsy, this-one travels on the wind_."

Stepping off the turbolift, she finally feels prepared for whatever is going to come next, prepared for any result that might come from this summons.

Two guard officers stand beside the pressurized white doors, paying her no mind as she steps through. The scene that greets her, though, is surprising; Admiral Caius, green-tinged reptilian skin and unblinking black eyes, sits at the head of the conference table, hands in a steeple; on either side of him are her instructors, all of whom stop talking when she enters.

Astra halts abruptly, her left foot half a step behind her. The cloak over her shoulders feels too heavy all of the sudden and she's sure that her face had never been paler. _Gods, they are discharging me from the Academy. Surely they are – why else would my teachers be here?_

Quickly, her eyes rove over each of her Professor's faces – and linger on Khai's, who looks as impassive as ever, his charcoal Instructors uniform crisp and striking against pale skin and reddish hair. Her eyes dart from his, landing on Admiral Caius, who gestures a claw-tipped hand towards the single-seat across from him.

 _How intimidating_. Astra had a feeling that everything Admiral Caius did was exceedingly deliberate, including making her sit in the single chair, lonely on one side of the table. The arrangement was clearly designed to make her nervous – and it was working.

"Please, Cadet. Sit."

Astra grits her back teeth, offering a slight inclination of her head, and sits in the sloping white chair, shoulders straight, eyes flashing between ochre and pale, light yellow; her emotions were so rattled that she couldn't settle on bravery or fear.

A long pause passes after Astra sits, Admiral Caius' fathomless black eyes studying her intently. His thin lips spread into a pleased smile, no teeth showing. "I must say, Cadet. I am extremely satisfied with your progress…And more than a little intrigued."

 _That is not what I was expecting to hear_.

The yellow fades out of Astra's eyes, settling back into a wispy silver-grey, a tiny frown gracing lush lips – Khai notices with satisfaction that her pallor has faded, her natural lily-white skin returning to normal.

"I'm not being discharged," she says, almost to herself, a clear question in the shape of her brows.

Admiral Caius leans forward. "I'm not in the habit of discharging my most promising Cadets," he says. "I am, however, in the habit of rewarding them."

"Reward, Sir?"

Both of Admiral Caius' hands gesture to her instructors. "You've seemed to stump all of my officers, here – and I like that. You have more potential in your littlest finger than most Cadets ever have or even dream of having. You're still in your first technical year and yet, your teachers have nothing more to teach you." He pauses, nodding to an officer standing to the side, who quickly flips on a holo-screen mounted in the middle of the table. Astra can see Admiral Caius' black eyes through the green-tint of the screen. "According to your records of the last several weeks, you progressed through all stages of class curriculum that you would ever need. Sub-space Engineering training is complete, you can learn no more of Computer Science and, you're able to speak…Lieutenant Commander Khai, what was the number you gave me?"

"97%, Sir," Khai answers promptly, tonelessly – Astra can feel his heavy gaze on her face and struggles not to betray her growing feelings. Her face feels hot.

Admiral Caius nods. "That's right, 97% fluency in the languages spoken by the Federation. That's more than impressive, Cadet."

"Thank you, Sir."

"None of that," he says kindly. "You're nervous – don't be. When Captain Godric vouched for your admission to the Academy, I must confess that I didn't believe you would make it this far, having no former formal training. But you've surprised me, Cadet, and that doesn't happen very often."

Astra wasn't sure how to reply to that, so she simply nodded – inside, a quick burst of elation flew through her chest, countered by a flash of dark orange suspicion in her eyes. She wasn't clear, yet.

"The question," Admiral Caius continues, "Is what am I supposed to do with you? It would be such a waste to let you continue on this path, especially since you've mastered all the academic subjects you will ever need on board a starship. Someone such as you cannot have those types of limitations. There is only one solution that makes sense."

Astra braced herself.

"You will be formally transferred into a third-year status," he says after a dramatic pause.

She releases a heavy breath. _Again, not what I was expecting._

"As you might know, third-year students at the Academy split their time between refining their majors, being teaching aids, and participating in various physical simulations in order to prepare for time in space. I find that it would be rather redundant to put you in another Phonology or Xenolinguistic class, for you have nothing else to learn. However, your physical training is not up to third-year standards yet – I understand that with the help of Sergeant Dmitri's teaching aid, your skills are level with a second year. Correct, Sergeant?"

"Yes, Sir," Sergeant Dmitri answers with a grin.

"Very well," Admiral Caius says. "I will have the Academy Administration transfer all of your class times into the gym, where you will continue working with the Sergeant and his aid. I hope you will be ready to join the rest of the third-year students when the time comes for simulation training."

"Eh, she'll probably be ready before then," Sergeant Dmitri snickers, leaning back in his chair.

"Indeed," Professor Khai agrees blandly, a swell of pride rising in his chest that he is having trouble containing, much to his confusion.

Admiral Caius claps, stands. Astra hurries to stand, too, raising her hand in a formal salute, recognizing the end of the meeting. "You have a good day, Cadet. Your new schedule begins tomorrow."

"Rest up," Sergeant Dmitri adds. "You're going to need it."

Astra nods, feeling breathless with her weightless happiness, her eyes flashing bright pink. "I will. Thank you, Sir," she says to the Admiral, saluting again.

He smiles thinly again, dismissing her with his own salute.

Astra exits the room, sparing a glance at Khai, whose eyes are tinged with the barest amount of light blue; once in the turbo lift, Astra releases a loud exhale. _I am gypsy, I move with the wind_ , she thinks. _If my wind moves, that is._


	14. Part 1: 14

**14**

_Terra, London, 2621_

"Cadet."

Astra turns towards the sound of the voice, her feet pivoting as Professor Khai's impassive, handsome face approaches her at a steady, unhurried pace. Her heart flutters before she can tramp down the sensation firmly – _teacher, he's my teacher…not anymore, though, I guess…_

"Lieutenant Commander."

She wasn't sure why he was approaching her outside of the Admiration building, especially at a crowded hover-bus stop. She had walked out of the meeting with high spirits, endured the turbolift, and quickly made her way back to the streets to wait for a ride to the Academy. Upon reaching the hover-bus stop, however, realization dawned on Astra and her already sore body began to protest. _I'm not discharged from the Academy, though that might have been a kinder decision!_ She honestly wasn't looking forward to Ja'asper's new training, which was guaranteed to be even more difficult; going from only a runner to a full-time athlete in under a month and a half wasn't kind on the body. As that epiphany passed, Astra's mood turned decidedly dour as she stood in ankle-deep grey slush, hood over her head.

As Lieutenant Commander Khai stops in front of her, Astra watches as his impassive façade cracks a tiny bit – for a moment, he looks lost, as if he can't quite believe what he is doing. Her lips quirk with a tiny smile, which seems to break him out of his confusion. Khai's eyes dart to the hover-bus sign, which indicated that Cadet Astra would be getting onto the wrong vehicle. Unless, of course, this was a deliberate action. _Interesting_. "Are you returning to campus?" he asks tonelessly, steel eyes boring into hers.

Initially, that had been Astra's plan – simply go back to her dorm and sleep for the rest of the day because she knew she would need the energy in the following days. But then her li'lute case had bumped against her side, reminding her that she had been remiss in playing the instrument, and her plans had changed drastically. When she had been traveling through Europe into Moscow, she had stopped in London for a few days to enjoy the sights; and since she had free time, re-living that memory seemed agreeable.

"No, Sir. I'm going over to Big Ben."

 _Interesting_. His thoughts catapult into a barrage of conclusions, all logical, and all pertaining as to why a Cadet would spend a day off-campus. Steel-toned eyes catch a thin familiar strap crossing over her chest protector and her intended destination begins to make sense. _Logical_ sense. "Very well," the Lieutenant Commander nods. "I'll go with you."

"Alright," she replies mindlessly, a second passing before his words register. "Wait, what?"

Lieutenant Commander Khai, back straight, expression blank, observes her for a moment. "Captain Charles Godric has taken the time to educate me about your preferred instrument, the li'lute," he offers as an explanation.

Sitting beside Lieutenant Commander Khai on a hover-bus is something of an experience – he is stiff, silent, and oblivious to incredulous stares. Astra sits beside him, reluctant to relax into the seat, her back sore from the rigidity and tension from the morning. Her eyes cut to the side, studying the sharp angles of Khai's profile, his lowered brows, the delicate point of his ears. _He is very handsome_ , she decides, absently tracing the line of his nose with her eyes.

"You are staring," he says blandly.

Astra's head snaps away, a hot blush creeping up her cheeks, her fingers clutching the case of her li'lute. "I wasn't," she denies. "I was looking out the window."

Khai's brow quirks up a fraction of a centimeter, his eyes looking over Astra's shoulder. "That is illogical. If you wanted to see sights, you could have looked out of your own window."

Her face becomes hotter. _Right_ , she thinks, biting her bottom lip. He was right – of course, he was. When they got on the bus, Khai had insisted on sitting on the isle seat, citing the fact that Astra didn't have his _superior_ genetics and therefore would be more easily jostled by other passengers. It was sweet, in a way, and it completely debased the alibi she just made – she was sitting right by a window, after all.

Still, she is determined to hold onto her argument. "I like to look out both windows," she insists. "I wasn't staring at you."

Khai studies her for a moment before looking away, seemingly disinterested. "We have missed our stop," he points out blandly.

"What? Why didn't you say so?" She says, pressing the flat button beneath her window in order for the bus to receive the cue to stop.

Standing slowly, Khai inches into the aisle. "As I have previously pointed out, you were staring."

Astra huffs as she steps off the bus, directly into a pile of grey slush. "Are you blaming me for missing the stop?"

"Blame is illogical."

"But you _are_ saying that because I was evidently staring, we missed the stop. Why couldn't you have stopped the bus, especially if you knew we missed our stop?"

"You were sitting by the window," he states.

Astra feels her eyes narrowing into a glare. _Must everything be logical with this man?_

"You are upset?"

Her teeth grind together as she looks away, intent on ignoring her frustration. It wasn't his fault – not really. He was Giidas, operating on literal meanings and an ambiguous set of social rules that Astra didn't have a hope of following. She had no reason to be frustrated with him, aside from the fact that, if she didn't _know_ any better, she could swear that he was behaving this way on purpose. Still, it didn't negate the fact that he was doing something sweet for her today, accompanying her to Big Ben so he can see for himself that she doesn't _hypnotize_ people. "I'm not upset," she answers slowly, stepping out of the slush and onto relatively flat snow, dismal and grey. She's truly not upset – just overwhelmed by the day. The sooner she got to Big Ben, the sooner she would feel better.

Lieutenant Commander Khai is silent, though he makes a point to put himself between her body and the street. Astra finds the silence both comforting and unnerving and, thankfully, they arrive at Big Ben very quickly. She picked a good day – the streets are bustling with people, tourists mainly, but they had always been her best customers. Slipping onto her tip-toes, Astra's eyes scan over the crowd, attempting to stake out a good location near the clock tower.

Khai watches with great interest, a flicker of amusement quirking on his lips as he sees her toes point, jolting her height up by a few inches. His quick mind understands what she is trying to do and recalls how _perfect_ her location in Cairo had been; using his height to his advantage, he gently takes hold of Cadet Astra's elbow ad leads her to a bright corner right beneath the clock tower, the place between a food vendor and a few benches – quiet enough so that her li'lute can be heard, but also in a moderately crowded place. "Thanks," she murmurs when he stops. "Must be convenient being so tall."

"Illogical," he tells her. "My height is neither convenient nor inconvenient, as all Giidas are near my height."

Her mouth opens slightly, her brows furrowed on her lovely face, as if she is about to argue – he can hear her teeth snap together when she closes her mouth and shakes her head slightly. He thinks he hears her mutter _'elf'_ under her breath as he turns away and ponders why she would be thinking of mystical beings at a time like this.

"Are you just going to stand there?" she asks abruptly, opening up her li'lute case.

Lieutenant Commander Khai's brow quirks just slightly. "I was under the impression that all who listen to you play stand."

"Yes," she says. "They do. Just not in my elbow space."

Khai's eidetic memory snaps back to Cairo, recalling the way she was surrounded by a wide circle, none of her audience standing close in her _elbow space_ – all listeners were a requisite four feet removed. Understanding the necessity, Khai steps back exactly 3.4 feet, his back near the wall of Big Ben, the shadow hiding his uniform as much as it hid his person.

With her back facing him, Astra removes the delicate instrument, her fingers quickly acclimating to the feel of the smooth quartz crystal, the tiny holes spiraling over the flute. _I truly have missed this instrument_ , she thinks, smiling softly as she flips her hood over her head and brings the li'lute to her lips. Eyes closed, she slips easily into a light meditation, smoothing out the turquoise spikes of her brain waves _. "Hayal._ " Calm. Feeling the relaxation spreading through her body, she touches the smooth surface of the li'lute to her lips, takes a breath, blows, her fingers beginning a slow dance on the flute.

Lieutenant Commander Khai observes with great interest as people flock towards Astra and the li'lute, smiling blissfully as visions are painted onto their psyches. The music was quite beautiful, he found, nearly as calming as traditional Giidas hymns, but somehow more lively – he'd never heard anything quite like it.

However, after several minutes passed and the crowed grew thicker, gathering around the slim figure cloaked in dove-grey, Khai realized that he was only enjoying the _music_. There were no visions screening his mind.

He frowns. Yes, he found both the music and the player quite beautiful, but it seemed that the psionic resonance of the li'lute could not break into the barrier of his genetically altered mind. That in itself was disappointing, an emotion, although distant, that Khai had never quite experienced before – he was evidently looking forward to this much more than he previously thought. He could only conclude that, due to the make-up of his DNA and his strictly reinforced mental walls, the psi-skills of Astra's li'lute were not powerful enough to even chink the armor of his mind. Lieutenant Commander Khai continues to listen to the music, enjoying it even though it had no effect on him, watching the crowd form a perfect semi-circle around his Cadet, falling easily into her vision. He wondered what she was showing them – another meadow like Captain Godric had described, or something more stellar? As he ponders this, he feels himself sink deeper into his own mind, quite similar to the sensation of slipping into a deep meditative state. Forcing himself out, his steel-toned eyes widen slightly – though the li'lute did not provide visions to him, the music did serve as a much easier method of beginning meditation. _Fascinating_.

Standing straight, arms at his sides, Khai closes his eyes, murmuring under his breath. " _Nartau let'thieri._ Embrace peace of mind."

Khai loses track of time as he meditates with the sound of the li'lute filtering through his conscious mind. He experiences the most singularly calming session of meditation in his life, listening to Astra's music, the lilting, trilling tones, and the complicated pattern of her notes. In truth, this impromptu meditation session was exactly what he needed, especially given how tense he was at the meeting with the Admiralty. Like the other instructors present, Khai had no idea why the Cadet was being summoned; he was asked to give an accurate assessment of her progress at the Academy and left to wonder why it was necessary. Admiral Caius liked to play his cards close to his chest and his true plans were only revealed when the Cadet was present, leaving his staff tense. It was all, of course, very deliberate. All of that tension melted away through the meditation and the flowing music of the li'lute. Eventually, though, the music stops and Khai opens his eyes, the color flashing the lightest sea-foam color beneath the steel veneer. He stoically observes as several people pass money to Astra, who politely declines and then accepts when her audience members are insistent, her hood flipped down to reveal her lily-white skin and pale freckles. As the crowd disperses, Khai steps out of the shadows, and one of the elderly Terrans in the crowd smiles. "Is she an officer or a Cadet?" the man asks Khai.

Tilting his head slightly, wondering at the Terran's curiosity, Khai answers, "She is a Cadet."

The elderly man smiles, leaning on his cane, which has sunk into the grey slush of snow. "She is quite talented."

"Yes," Khai agrees blandly.

"Might want to use her on diplomatic ventures in the future, then. Nothing calms a room of seething diplomats quite like a stunning girl playing a li'lute," the man says with a chuckle.

"Indeed," Khai agrees quietly as the man ambles off, disappearing in the crowd. The older Terran's observation was keen and Khai made a note to consider it further – his training instilled in him the desire to consider every option, especially options that have not occurred to him yet.

Once the audience melts back into Big Ben's bustling crowd, Lieutenant Commander Khai steps towards Astra, silent at her side as she sifts through the money she earned, her li'lute already delicately placed back into her case. Khai is mildly surprised at the amount she received in such a short time, though the distant emotion fails to show on his face. She catches his gaze and offers a wry smile. "Are you hungry?"

Lieutenant Commander Khai tilts his head, inquisition clear on his blank face – or maybe Astra only thought it clear because of how much time she spent with him.

She quickly counts out the money, storing half of it in her cloak's inner pocket. "That vendor over there sells Piarix candies," she tells him. "I think today calls for a celebration."

"You wish to celebrate by eating food?"

"Yes."

"Is that not a Terran eating disorder?" Khai inquires, following her through the crowd with his hands clasped behind his back.

Astra shoots him a cool look. "No," she says dryly. "It's not an _eating disorder_. It's simply a celebration."

Though Khai finds her explanation highly illogical – as she offered no reason as to _why_ it wasn't considered an eating disorder – he lets the matter slide, discovering that he quite enjoys the happy look on her delicate face when she speaks with the vendor in Prix'arie.

" _Yes,"_ the kindly woman agrees, her skin the lightest shade of purple, matching her eyes and her dark plum hair. Unlike Mari'Ahlice, she does not wear a circlet on her head – the vendor is clearly a Piarix civilian. " _Though most of our food is in the liquid state, we make special except to candies."_

" _Which is your favorite? I can not decide which I should try first,"_ Astra says, looking at each of the wonderfully colorful candies with a critical eye. Through all of her travels, she had only ever had one Piarix candy and it was not sold at this particular vendor, leaving her at a slight loss as to what she should purchase.

" _This candy here,_ " the vendor says, gesturing to a golden square half the size of Astra's palm, covered in a coating of yellow crystalline sugar. _"This is similar to the Terran chocolate, though the taste is less rich. It is a favorite of mine."_

" _I would love to try it, then. Also, the blue, green, and pink candies_ ," Astra decides, passing over the correct amount of money. The vendor places the golden square, the blue oval, the connected green rectangles, and the small package of tiny pink circles into a nondescript white box, the candies separated by thin tissue paper.

" _Have a pleasant day,"_ the vendor says, smiling as Astra returns the informal farewell with perfection.

Khai is still silent, calmly walking beside Astra towards the nearest hover-bus stop. The day had passed very quickly and the short London day was almost over, the setting sun dyeing the grey slush a unique shade of orange, a few flurries of snow adding to the chilled air. There is a low bench beside the hover-bus stop, which Astra quickly sits down on, eagerly opening her box of candies. A tiny crest of concern washes over Khai as she picks up the sugar-coated golden square. "Perhaps you should not eat that," he says suddenly, right as the candy touches lush lips.

Astra lowers the candy a fraction of an inch. "I just bought it. Of course, I'm going to eat it."

"It is an alien candy," he argues mildly. "It might harm you."

Astra's wispy grey eyes flash a muted pink, amusement apparent on her face. "Lieutenant Commander, I'm sure the vendor was aware that I am Terran. She would not have sold something that would harm me."

 _That's a logical argument_ , he decides unhappily. Still, grasping at any opposition that he can, Khai feels his brows lower. "What of allergies? We are not anywhere near a clinic for you to receive medical care."

"I'll take my chances," she responds succinctly, biting into the golden candy. Her taste buds erupt, her eyes closing as she enjoys the chocolate-like candy melting on her tongue. Candies were something that Astra enjoyed very rarely, especially since she had been living like a gypsy for so long, and _this_ candy was exceptional, even better than the wonderful Piarix candy she had a few years ago. A certain flavor to the candy made her lightheaded – she takes another bite.

Unbeknownst to her, the color rising in Astra's cheeks set off warning bells to Khai; when she opened her eyes, they seemed glassy. "Cadet, perhaps half the candy is enough for now."

Astra waves him off. "I'm fine – really warm."

On the entire ride back to campus, Khai keeps an eye on the Cadet, wary of any other reactions – yet, aside from her flushed face and happy, dazed smile, she appears to be fine. Reluctantly, he allows her into her dorm without seeking medical attention, as he concluded that the only reaction she had to that particular candy was a neural sequence that made her appear _high_. With a lingering glance at her back as she leans against the wall of the turbolift, Khai leaves, head down, deep in thought about the implications of Astra's academic promotion.

Meanwhile, Astra giggles in the turbolift, stumbling slightly as she steps through the pressurized doors of her dorm suite. She felt very _happy_ , light, breathless, and dizzy all at once. Her tongue carries a lingering taste of the candy she ate, which distracts her enough that she almost runs into Mari'Ahlice in the living room. The lightness of Astra's mood quickly gives way to wide-eyed dazedness, her expression matching Mari'Ahlice's as she inhales the cloying scent of incense in the room. Rosy was nowhere to be found – but it was _Monday_ , and apparently the designated time the three roommates had worked out for Mari'Ahlice to pray to her Gods. Piaries had a specific religion that involved the use of neural inhibitors to access their visions – they believed that using the specific drugs native to their planet opened up a direct link to their Gods. When Astra moved into the dorm several weeks ago, Ahlice had taken the time to explain this and Astra had, of course, agreed to give Mari'Ahlice full use of the dorm during her two-hour session on Mondays – the session which Astra had just walked in on.

Mari'Ahlice's eyes were so dilated, her pupil blown up to the point that there was only a thin ring of rose quartz showing through. _"The time is almost near_ ," she says is Prix'arie. " _Stars have aligned. Great distance will soon become you and your love._ "

Astra shakes her head at the slow drone, which didn't sound much like Mari'Ahlice at all. Before she can put too much thought into what exactly is happening, Ahlice blinks several times, the dilation of her pupils fading, her brows furrowing together. "Astra?"

Still feeling rather lightheaded, Astra sinks down on the couch. Was her perception skewed? Perhaps Lieutenant Commander Khai was right and she did have some sort of reaction to that candy – not that she felt bad, per se. "Sorry," she says softly. "I forgot that it's Monday…Are you okay?"

Mari'Ahlice's eyes become slightly guarded as she softly grinds the cloying incense into a tray, putting out the smoke. "You heard something."

Astra nods. "I did. I think maybe you were talking _to_ me, _about_ me. Something about my love and distance."

Mari'Ahlice nods calmly. "You were not supposed to hear that."

"Sorry."

"I came to Terra against my father's orders," Ahlice says suddenly. "I had a vision of my mate, of meeting him here. On Piarix, life-mates are sacred, the highest order – so I left, knowing that at least part of my family blessed by the decision to abdicate the crown temporarily. My stars are aligning now."

"You know who he is? Your mate?"

"I do," Ahlice confirms.

"Why haven't you pursued him?"

Rose quartz eyes glint with sharp intelligence. "It is not yet time."

Astra nods, looks away, down at her hands. She had a sinking suspicion that she had to confirm. "Ahlice, you were talking about me though…is…have you _seen_ something about me and…my mate?"

Mari'Ahlice is quiet for a long time – and when she does speak, chills of anticipation race down Astra's spine. "What I know, I cannot share. It would disrupt the flow of fate. The universe has a plan for all of us."


	15. Part 1: 15

**15**

_Terra, London, 2621_

"Captain, this discussion is forcing tardiness on my part."

Charles Godric rolls his eyes, which Khai regards to be a very un-Captain-like thing to do – not at all fitting for one who wears such badges of honor. "Son, we both know that nobody is waiting for you in your office. All you'll do when you get there is replicate some of that horrible tea you like so much and go over your lesson plans for the day. You're not missing much. This _discussion_ , as you so irritatingly put it, is more important."

"Illogical, Captain. The importance of one subject of the other is null in this comparison, especially since I find your topic of choice to be…uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable, huh?" Captain Godric mutters, crossing his arms and looking up at the Lieutenant Commander, who despite his young age, towered over most people the Captain knew. "Tell me, Khai, is comfort not an emotion?"

"It's a state of being, Captain. I do not _feel_ uncomfortable or uneasy, but I _am_."

"Semantics."

"Captain," Khai argues mildly. "They are two very different things to a Giidas."

Both men walk in silence for a moment, early-rising students of the Academy avoiding them wisely. Captain Godric sought Khai out this morning to say good-bye in person, for sentimental reasons that Khai did not understand, as his shore-leave was over and he was due back on-ship to patrol the neutral areas once again. As a high-ranking Captain in the Federation, Captain Godric used his authority to gain access to the meeting that had happened the previous week at the Admiralty and he gleefully brought up the topic with Khai – who, evidently, found the subject _uncomfortable_ , which was amusing to say in the least.

"I think you should take the offer, Khai," Captain Godric says again as they enter the turbolift to the floor Khai's office was on.

"Captain-"

"She's the best xenolinguist student available," the Captain says persuasively. "And just think about all the time you'll have to recalibrate the long-range sensor arrays when she's grading assignments for you."

 _That_ argument made Khai consider the situation, his head tilted to the side as he walks into his office. Giidas, by nature, were not fond of others completing their assigned work – but, exceptions could certainly be made. As a formal instructor, most of Khai's time was split between teaching and grading, which did not give him enough opportunity to work in other areas of interest. Since he had begun inspecting the _Nova_ in Egypt, he had taken it upon himself to improve several of the technological functions within the ship, intent on making the sensors and processors more efficient on the bridge than in previous designs. If he accepted a teaching aid for his final semester at the Academy, he would be able to fulfill both obligations to the Federation. And it was the only logical option available.

Still, the choices available to him for the position of teaching aid were either atrocious and underqualified or…Cadet Astra. Logically, she would be the most appropriate choice, given the fact that his classes were Xenolinguistics and Phonology, which she excelled at – and the young girl was very capable. But Khai was all too aware that _she_ had only applied to be a general teaching aid and that she had no specific requests on her application – which meant that she did not request to be _his_ teaching aid. Captain Godric might have thought he brought news to Khai's attention, but the Lieutenant Commander was aware of Astra's availability the second her application was processed. He couldn't understand why she had not requested him. He had not, to his knowledge, offended her in any way – not since Egypt, that is. She seemed at ease in his company when they meditated on Saturday. And, while inebriated, she had bestowed upon him a kiss – logic indicated that this meant she liked him in some way.

Yet, she did not request him. _Completely illogical_. The gypsy girl seemed to have no discernable pattern that Khai could use to predict her decisions, which was becoming more and more frustrating to him.

"Khai?"

The young Giidas looks at his Captain, the steel-tone of his eyes layered with a bare tinge of red irritation. "Yes, Captain?" he asks, his voice nearly terse.

"I think you should really consider Cadet Astra for the position," Captain Godric presses, following Khai into his office and standing near the pressurized door. Had the office always been this warm? He understood that Giidas preferred higher temperatures, but surely this was overboard.

Khai sits in his high-backed chair and uncharacteristically leans his elbows onto his desk, his brows furrowed slightly. He sighs. "I agree, Captain. It seems most…logical."

Captain Godric's brows shoot up at Khai's tone – _does he sound forlorn or is the heat getting to me?_ Squinting his eyes at the Lieutenant Commander, Captain Godric believes that he sees warring emotions on Khai's face and he grins, his suspicions about Khai's feelings for Astra nearly confirmed. Even if the Lieutenant Commander didn't quite understand his emotions now, the Captain was sure he would eventually. It was unfortunate that Charles Godric felt that he would be in space when the time came. _What I wouldn't give to watch that moment!_ Taking the hat he had tucked beneath his arm and placing it on his head, Captain Godric turns to the door, listening to the slow hiss as they slide open. "I'll just leave you to it then. But Khai?"

Lieutenant Commander Khai looks up from his desk, staring blankly at the Captain. "Yes, Sir?"

"When you do accept that application for the Cadet, think about turning down the heat in this place, okay? She'll be spending a lot of time in here and we Terrans like it a little cooler," he says teasingly, enjoying the momentary confusion that passes over Khai's face, the only tell of such emotion being the twitch of his dark brows.

As Khai had never been one to argue with his officers, he nods, understanding that Captain Godric was trying to ensure Terran comfort levels – which was most odd to Khai, especially since Cadet Astra had never complained about the heat of his office. In fact, she didn't seem to mind it at all.

The Captain leaves and Khai's office doors slide closed. In a rare moment of released tension, Khai slumps back in his office chair, legs kicked out beneath his desk, his back not supported by the lumbar padding. He can feel a frown on his face, an entire centimeter of downward pull on his lips. His eyes rove the contours of his office – dark green walls, his large desk cleared of all objects except for his black tea mug and his black Pad, the smoothly polished floors with only two meditation mats directly in the center. Aside from the incense holder between the mats, his office was so very uninviting. Utilitarian. It wasn't surprising, of course, given the fact that Khai was raised in a lab room where one object served the purpose of at least three different functions – and Khai liked utilitarianism. It was clean, logical. He knew no other way.

Cadet Astra, however – she struck him as someone who enjoyed memorabilia, who kept things for the sake of keeping things, who stored her memories preciously. He wondered, for the first time, what she must think of his office. If not for the heat, it would seem cold; even the deep soothing green of the walls didn't add any warmth to the room. If the Cadet was to be his teaching aid, would she not enjoy looking at various objects? Though Khai had traveled through space and had the opportunity to collect souvenirs, he never had – a fact that he was now beginning to regret.

His frown deepens. He, a warrior, was regretful of not purchasing an Anzite piece of pottery? _Illogical_. He had no need for such things. Who was this Cadet to make him consider such illogical nuances? And why would he care about what she thought of his office or his lack of memoriam objects?

With great precision, Khai corrects his posture and smoothes out his face, his long fingers tapping on his Pad to bring up the applications for teaching aids, specifically Cadet Astra's application. His memory serves him well – she did not request any specific instructor to assist. He considers the possibility that maybe she forgot to fill out that part of the form or that perhaps she only filled out the form because it was expected of her and she did not expect to be accepted as a teaching aid in the first place. For a reason that Khai cannot ascertain, both of those possibilities comfort Khai, and he does not hesitate to request the Cadet as his teaching aid. She could of course reject his request, but he did not think she would – and, having confidence in his deductions, Khai also sends a request for another desk to be placed in his office, along with a chair that properly supported the lumbar, similar to his own. If he was to have Cadet Astra as a teaching aid, she would need the proper tools, which was only logical.

With that task completed, his request zipping to the Administration Office on campus, Khai experiences a jolting sense of ease, as if stress had just been removed from his mind. _Most unsettling._

***N*O*V*A**

The entire lower half of Astra's body was aching. Her hips, her pelvis, thighs, knees, calves, shins, ankles, her soles, her toes – absolutely every muscle from the juncture of her leg down to the ball of her foot was acutely on fire. In fact, her whole body was in similar condition. She wasn't sure she could raise her littlest finger.

The blame could be put on Ja'asper, who seemed to find sick, twisted satisfaction in Astra's pain. Her prediction that he would make her training more intense couldn't have been more accurate – the previous Tuesday, Ja'asper explained that she would now be learning various martial arts techniques, starting with his home-planets favored fighting style, which resembled Krav Maga. The fighting technique was dirty, mean, intense – it took advantage of every weak point in the body, went after the most vulnerable joints, the most easily broken bones. It was feral. Terrifying. And absolutely exciting.

Regardless of her aching body, Astra truly was enjoying the Me'atal fighting style. Every night, except for the weekends, she collapsed in her gel-bed, barely able to finish her meal in the mess hall before stumbling into the turbolift, shredding her clothes, and passing out into blissfully painless sleep. The next morning, she would wake up, eat a breakfast that was entirely too large and protein-packed, go on a four-mile run – five miles next week – and meet Ja'asper at the gym, in a separate room from the other training courses. There, he would take her through various stretches, weight training exercises, and sometimes cultural education for a series of planet-specific fighting techniques. Lunch would be another protein-packed meal shared with Ja'asper, who was intent on removing all carbohydrates from her diet and replacing them with vegetarian-friendly protein-packed foods. After lunch, hand-to-hand combat training would begin and Astra would endure contorting her body into positions that were nearly painful and using muscles she didn't even know she had. She had suspicions that Ja'asper was starting with his own favored technique because of her relative slightness – she simply didn't have the muscle mass for many of the other techniques he mentioned. But, though all of that training was intense and exhausting, it had nothing to do with the soreness of her lower body. _No_ , those particular aches were all because of the specialized pants Ja'asper had replicated for her.

She was sure he thought he was _so_ smart for thinking of the pants. Astra's body was naturally slim, her muscles lithe, and her slightly taller than average height making her more willowy than bulky, even when she was packing on pounds from all of the strength training. Ja'asper had shown concern in how weak her leg muscles appeared to be and had insisted that she wear the pants from Me'atal. She suspected that he might not have taken into consideration the fact that she was Terran, because the pants he'd replicated were specifically for Me'atal females and their more dense bodies. Specifically, the pants were weighted with fine metal minerals between the two layers of heavy fabric – easily, the reinforced mocha material weighted half of Astra's entire body weight. She wore the pants each day and, over the week that had passed, she noticed that her legs were toning up far more quickly than they had in the past, and she was beginning to put more muscles onto her thighs and calves, especially since she worked with Ja'asper in those pants.

And now he was telling her that next Monday, she would graduate into heavier pants. "Please tell me you're kidding."

Ja'asper grins, his metal knuckles closing over a long, thin cylindrical beam of wood. "Not at all. The stronger the muscles in your legs are, the faster you'll move. Unfortunately for you, your body isn't as dense as others, and that could be a bad thing for you in a fight, _especially_ in space. If your opponent has a higher body density than you, he'll move faster in less gravity and even faster than that in denser gravity. You don't have that luxury, so we have to build up your strength in other ways."

"You're sadistic," she tells him simply, leaning her palms on her bent knees as she attempts to catch her breath. Her muscles quiver with effort and her skin is slick with sweat. _Too much hair, I've got too much hair_ , she thinks wildly, feeling the weight of her waist-length tresses against the back of her neck, where she has braided and coiled the length in an effort to keep it out of the way. _I need a haircut. Maybe Mari'Ahlice can see where I should go get it done._

"I'm being smart and looking out for you," Ja'asper corrects kindly. Over the last several weeks, their relationship had developed into a close friendship, her affection for him brotherly. If she wasn't so irritated at him about the pants she was forced to wear, she might have called Ja'asper her best friend. Astra's fingers pick absently at the thick material of the weighted pants. She sighs, bends over, picks up a wooden stick similar to Ja'asper's. It was Friday and Ja'asper had decided to introduce a new technique into the fighting style, one that involved long weapons like sticks – or _sabers_ he'd dryly pointed out. While he hadn't specifically been trained to fight with a saber, he had seen Dmitri demonstrate late last week and had easily picked up on the style – and since he and Astra both had their eyes on the saber, he decided that a little early training wouldn't hurt either of them.

Astra stands straight, her eyes the purest cerulean blue, her gaze steady and sure. "Fine. I trust you. You tell me I need heavier pants, I'll wear them."

"That's the spirit."

"I didn't say I would like it," she grouches.

Ja'asper smiles, showing off one sharp tooth. "And I don't need to hear that. It's for your own good, anyway. I know you don't want to hear it, but you are Terran and you are female and the males you potentially have as opponents are stronger, taller, and faster. If I can help it, they won't be better," he says sternly.

Astra nods, grudgingly admitting that males of all species were physiologically better equipped and that Ja'asper was right. "How much heavier will they be?"

"Another fifteen pounds."

"Ja'asper," she groans, her knees shaking.

"I can have them replicated in pink if you'd like."

She scowls at him.

Ja'asper spins his stick in a blurring circle above his head and falls into his fight stance. "If it makes you feel better, I have to start letting you off a few hours earlier. Now, chin up, Cadet. Look alive. Copy my stance."

Astra moves quickly, gracefully falling into a mimic of Ja'asper's position – yet, for as intimidating as Ja'asper makes it seem, Astra still looks docile in the mirrors of the training room, something about her physical appearance making her seem fragile even with her arms bruised and her expression fierce. The wood against her fingers is smooth, cracking dully against her knuckles. "What do you mean? I get to leave early now?"

Ja'asper nods, gripping the wood with his metal knuckles, and flicking the stick towards Astra's vulnerable kneecap – she blocks at the last second, weaving her stick around his with a flick of her wrist and tapping the end against his hand. "Dmitri wants to start training me with the saber so I can help with the classes in a few weeks."

Astra attacks first this time. "Really? So soon?"

Ja'asper blocks her advance and quickly unleashes a fancy maneuver he had yet to teach her. "Third years have to start simulations soon and with that, the more advanced combat classes. It's about time. We might even be a little late since we're starting in February."

Astra attempts to block his impressive maneuver, but his stick slips past her own, tapping harshly against her hipbone. Holding back a gasp, Astra twists her body, forcing his stick off her side. " _Gods_ ," she curses, her hand landing on her hip, which was protected only by the thick fabric of her weighted pants. "Ja'asper, teach me what you just did!"

"Shit, sorry," he apologizes quickly. "You want me to look at that? I wasn't watching how much strength I was using."

"No," she says quickly. "It's fine. Just – how did you do that? Is that part of the Me'atal-"

"It is," he says, cutting her off, his icy eyes flicking to the closed door. "It's just not something that Terrans are supposed to know about. There are certain Me'atal techniques that are taught only to the Guard."

Astra nods, understanding his implications. Ja'asper left the Guard on Me'atal a few years ago, in pursuit of higher ambitions. Similar to ancient Terran gangs, the Guard initiated with a brutal beating…and allowed members to leave if they survived another one. He'd confided that he had to recover on Terra for six months after leaving the chill of Me'atal before he could attend the Academy, due to how severe the injuries were. She believed that made Ja'asper stronger – and a bit more humane. "So you won't teach me then?"

Ja'asper appears pensive, absently rubbing over a silvery scar on his collarbone; clenching his jaw, he nods. "I'll teach you some things. I won't teach you all of it, because it's way too brutal. But some of it you might find useful."

Astra smiles. "Great. When can I start-" The high chime of her Pad, stowed in the pocket of her cloak on the bench in the far corner, cuts her off. Astra frowns, glancing at Ja'asper. "Should I get that?"

Ja'asper nods. "Yeah. It's time for a break anyway."

Silently grateful, Astra nod and leans her stick against the mirrored wall. Rubbing her hipbone, she pulls out her Pad, frowning at the message from the Administration. It was a notification that she had been assigned an instructor and that she was to report to the office as soon as possible today before office hours closed. _I wonder who wanted me? That office number looks familiar though…_

"Important?"

Astra looks away from her Pad. "Kind of. Apparently, I'm a teaching aid, too."

"Perfect timing, then," Ja'asper laughs. "While I'm getting my ass handed to me with a saber, you'll have a new way to fill your time. The cosmos must be working with us."

Astra snorts, eying Ja'asper's metal tattoos, the hard silver of his shoulders, elbows, knuckles. "I'm more worried about Sergeant Dmitri than you. Go easy on him," she says wryly.

"It wouldn't be in my favor to harm my officer," he tells her dryly. "I'll hold back."

"Oh, like you hold back on me?" Astra challenges.

"I go easy on you. Really," he teases. "It's not my problem that you're so soft."

"Ass," she mutters as he turns around.

"I heard that," Ja'asper says mockingly. "But I'll still let you off early today. Go report to your instructor."

"Yes, Sir," she salutes mockingly, turning to gather her cloak and Pad, which she puts on as she walks out of the gym. The weighted pants cause her hips to sway more than they ever had in the past, due to the shifting of the finely powdered metal, and she is thankful that her long winter cloak at least affords her modesty from that particular embarrassment. Checking the office number again on her Pad, a flutter of excitement fills Astra's stomach. _Could it be…?_

Once out of the turbolift, she goes on a familiar route to a familiar office; the doors slide open. Lieutenant Commander Khai sits behind his desk, looking at her expectantly. There is a new addition in his office, a slightly smaller desk pushed beside the window, completely clear of all objects.

"Cadet," he greets, his voice deep and even – rich to Astra's ears. Until last week, she hadn't realized how much she missed hearing his voice in the lecture hall, and he didn't talk much on their Saturday meditations.

"Lieutenant Commander," Astra returns evenly, stepping up to his desk, her hips swaying with the extra effort it takes to walk. For a second, she wonders what she must look like – sweaty, tired, her hair a mess – and winces internally.

"Since you're here, you must be aware that you are my new teaching aid," he says blandly, gesturing for her to sit, which she does gratefully. "I have already created a link to the database for my classes that you will use to grade assignments. I'm sure you understand that grades are earned without a curve. If you would like, you may begin grading on Monday."

"I could start tomorrow," she offers easily. "After meditation."

Khai shakes his head. "I will not be in the country tomorrow," he tells her. "I will be inspecting the _Nova_."

Astra, ignoring the twinge and protest from her body, leans forward. "Could I go with you to Egypt?"

Khai's steel-toned eyes meet hers stoically, the angles of his face in contrast with the riot of his hair. "It would be most logical for my teaching aid to accompany me for this task," he says after a moment.


	16. Part 1: 16

**16**

_Terra, London, 2621_

Astra cannot help but lament the invention of the com-unit when it wakes her mid-morning on Saturday. _"Please, disengage alarm. It is nine o'three. Please, disengage alarm,"_ the robotic feminine voice says tonelessly between sudden bouts of high-pitched ringing. Astra's head is pressed beneath her pillow, her hips and stomach firmly attached to the gel-bed, her body protesting at even the _thought_ of moving. _"Please, disengage alarm. It is nine o'four. Please, disengage alarm."_

"Fine," she mutters irritably. Her stomach grumbles half-heartedly as she sits up with a wince, her hand patting her belly as she yawns, directing a weak glare to her wall-mounted com-unit. She stands, quickly disengages the alarm, and flips the Replicator on to create her high-protein breakfast while she steps into the sonic shower. Astra was sure that she had never eaten so much in her entire life than she had in the past two weeks, but her metabolism was making up for it in spades; she was losing the spare body fat she had and gaining lithe muscle mass in place. Standing naked in the sonic shower, she takes a moment to observe her body in the reflective reinforced glass – her breasts perter, though still on the small side, her arms healthy with feminine definition, her stomach flatter and ridged with faint traces of her abdominal muscles, her thighs and calves were toned nicely, adopting strong curves. She turns on her toes, looking over her shoulder – her waist looked smaller, too, as well as the globe of her bottom. Even her face lost some of the youthful curves, her overall appearance more angular and feminine – more grown-up. She didn't look seventeen anymore and Astra couldn't decide if that fact bothered her or not.

Stepping out of the shower, Astra slips on the greige robe that Mari'Ahlice encouraged her to Replicate, the material soft like silk and light against her sonic-heated skin. Loosely tying the robe, Astra takes her large breakfast off the Replicator and begins eating at the desk – Falleen eggs, Twi'lek fruits and nuts, bright blue Piarix breakfast soup, Terran toast and milk, thick, cold Giidas yogurt with Anzite granola. Annoyingly, after she has cleaned up her breakfast dishes, tossing them into her desk-side incinerator, her stomach still grumbles softly, as if pleading for more food. Ignoring her metabolism, Astra turns to the Replicator again, flipping open the catalog and setting several items to begin Replicating. _This_ particular trip to Cairo required new clothing – though Astra vehemently refused to acknowledge _why_.

With a refreshed, thankful sigh, Astra slips into a taupe dress with a wide, square neckline, tight sleeves past her wrists, and a blunt hem that rested above her knees. The lack of weight of the material was blissful in comparison to those pants that Ja'asper made her wear. A butter-soft mocha chest protector, nude stockings, knee-high fawn-colored boots. Flipping through the Replicator catalog, she selects a new cloak the color of cinnamon, made of leather-like material; this cloak is stiffer than others, slightly more masculine, falling to her knees with crisp edges, the hood cool and heavy on her head, the buttons large and silver. Astra quickly places her pocket-com into the interior pocket of the cloak and reaches for her li'lute case, eager for the next opportunity to play.

Rosy is sitting in the middle of the living room when Astra ventures out, surrounded by various devices, her face streaked with dark grease. Her red lips twisted into a teasing smirk. "Going on another date with the Lieutenant Commander?"

"It wasn't a date. He just wanted to understand how the li'lute worked," Astra insists, gazing at Rosy's current project with interest, especially the thin, rectangular translucent gems. "Are those diamond quartz crystals?"

Rosy snorts. "I bet that's what he says to all the girls. And yes," Rosy confirms, tapping a greasy nail against a crystal. "Lieutenant Felix is letting me use them to create my new idea of what a warp battery _should_ look like. I think I can increase the total warp drive to over 175% with this design."

"He's Giidas," Astra argues mildly. "He doesn't tell all of the girls anything, and you know it. Would this warp battery go on the _Nova_?"

"So naïve," Rosy mutters with a grin. "I think if I can get the arrays stable enough, then the engineers on the _Nova_ would consider it – after extensive testing, of course."

"I could take a look at whatever they're using on the _Nova_ today if you want," Astra offers. She knew enough about Sub-Space Engineering to understand a little about warp drives and batteries and diamond quartz crystal arrays.

"That would be helpful," Rosy tells her. "I don't suppose they'd let you take pictures?"

Astra frowns. "No, probably not."

"That's okay. I don't need to get distracted by the competition anyway."

"Competition?"

"That's right," Rosy nods, pushing her curly blond hair behind her ears and leaving a streak of grease on her cheekbone. "My goal is to create the strongest, most durable warp core in the galaxy. All other warp technology is competition."

"You have a lot of ambition, Rosy."

The Zainte female unleashes a slightly feral grin. "And that's why they fear me."

"Where's Mari'Ahlice?"

Rosy shakes her head and turns back to her array. "I think she's visiting the Piarix Embassy. She said something about her father being on-planet for the weekend. I wasn't paying that much attention."

Astra smiles. "I should get going, too."

"Yeah, I'm sure the Lieutenant Commander wouldn't want his date to be late."

"It's not a date," Astra insists again as she walks out of the dorm. She opts to take the stairs, as she has a much easier time navigating the steps without the weighted pants on. Curiously, despite how sore her legs are, she finds herself moving faster, with greater ease, and more gracefully, especially as she sidesteps a Twi'lek Cadet who wasn't paying attention to where he was walking. She waves off his hasty polite apology and hurries to the hover-bus station, boarding the bus that will take her to the Federation Admiralty, where the private London transporter pad was located.

By the time she reaches the transporter room in the building beside the Admiralty, the sun is high in the sky, melting fresh snow into the grey slush she detested, and Lieutenant Commander Khai is waiting patiently beside the transporter controls, arms behind his back, angular face completely blank.

"Cadet," he greets coolly.

Astra ignored the shiver that raced down her spine when he addressed her directly, instead focusing on his insistence of formality, wondering idly if she would ever hear him use her first name without _Cadet_ as a prefix.

"Lieutenant Commander Khai," she answers dryly, wispy grey eyes taking in his black uniform. Khai apparently deemed it appropriate to wear his Federation uniform since inspecting the _Nova_ was official Federation business – not that Astra was complaining. She feels heat rise embarrassingly in her cheeks as she admires the way his lithe build fills out the stiff uniform, the way the dark color contrasts with his pale skin, and how the effort he obviously took to tame his hair made the point of his ears stand out.

"The transporter is ready for us."

"Joy," Astra sighs, following the Lieutenant Commander towards the flat grey pad, her body tensing with apprehension as the transporter pad lights up bright white as it registers their weight.

Khai's steel-toned eyes notice the barely detectable shift in Astra's weight and he silently offers his elbow, along with his bland words. "I also dislike the sensation of the transporter."

Astra doesn't reveal how surprised she is by his silent consent of solidarity of comfort as she gingerly hooks her elbow with his – nor does her face reveal how _pleasant_ she finds their difference in body mass and height. She decides he is very masculine, despite the abnormally beautiful symmetry of his angular features and fuller lips.

Lieutenant Commander Khai nods to an engineer on the transporter deck, who nods in answer and presses a few buttons on the com-unit. "Energizing," the engineer announces.

As he speaks, Astra's center of gravity seems to fail her as she is uncomfortably lifted a few inches in the air, her body feeling weightless as she and the Lieutenant Commander standing in the center of the transporter beam. She squeezes her eyes tightly, unconsciously turning her body into the Lieutenant Commander's denser frame, her forehead against his bicep, her elbow hugging his arm to her body. Then, as suddenly as it starts, it stops – her feet touch the transporter bad and a rush of gravity hits her, the hollowness disappearing instantly from her body.

Astra opens her eyes to a view of downtown Cairo and shakes her head. As a gypsy, she had never been exposed to a transporter until she joined the Federation Academy months ago – and still, she didn't enjoy the experience. It reminded her of free-falling off a cliff, which she had done in Greece to swim in the Mediterranean Sea; the difference, of course, was that she _knew_ when she would hit the water. With a transporter, she was putting her very life into the hands of technology and it was something that she didn't think she would ever become accustomed to.

Lieutenant Commander Khai makes no comment and allows their elbows to stay joined as he helps her off the transporter pad. Very abruptly, Astra distances herself from Khai, her eyes flashing lemon yellow with embarrassment, slightly ashamed of how entirely gutless she behaved a few minutes prior. She wasn't used to seeming weak, and definitely not in front of a Lieutenant Commander.

As if not recognizing – or acknowledging – her emotional reaction, Lieutenant Commander Khai thanks the transport engineers on the Cairo side of the pad and stiffly turns, walking out of the transporter room. Astra follows behind silently, her pace a few steps behind his and to the right.

 _This_ Khai notices – her position behind him. He very briefly wonders if the Cadet knew that walking a pace behind and to the right of a male was indicative of mates or betrothed on Giidas. The Giidas did not share this information, though, as it was a particularly sacred right for their people that the Federation did not need to be privy to – there was no way Cadet Astra could possibly know or understand how her submissive position affected Khai. His reaction was visceral and most illogical and he suppressed it ruthlessly, filing the hot coil in his stomach into his memory to be analyzed later.

Lieutenant Commander Khai navigates to the turbolift and down to the first floor, where he blandly requests an officer for transportation. The officer behind the desk nods and passes over a slim silver cylindrical object connected to a thick ring, which Khai slips over his middle finger. Turning away from the desk, he inclines his chin and turns down a hallway. "Come, Cadet."

They walk in silence through the straight-forward collection of hallways until Khai finally stops at wide metal double doors, which slide open once he confirms his identity on the wall-mounted com-unit, the bright blue scanner logging his fingerprints. The door opens to a garage, though Khai does not drift towards the perfectly lined vehicles on the stark white floor; instead, he moves towards a Replicator and quickly sets the machine to work, handing Astra a bundle and quietly instructing her to use the dressing room off to the side. Slightly confused, Astra nods and closes the door behind her, quickly changing out of her earth-tones and into an outfit that makes her face flush.

It isn't that the clothing is risqué or revealing in any way, and it isn't that the clothing is something Astra wouldn't have chosen for herself – rather, it is the obvious thought that Lieutenant Commander Khai put into the ensemble that warms her face in a delightful way, her eyes flashing bright pink. The material of all the clothing is similar to leather, thick and reinforced and so dark that the sheen is violet instead of grey; the dress is similar to others she has worn, with a high neck, except that the chest-protector is built-in and the hem of the dress reaches mid-thigh; the stockings are thin, though made of the same material; and the boots are rather clunky, with thick heels. Most delightfully is the cloak, which is just as short as the dress, with hidden buttons that closed the cloak to her sternum, and a deep hood that shadowed her face, the insignia for the Federation metal-pressed over her heart. She examines herself in the mirror, stunned at how serious and formidable she appeared in the all-black ensemble, her more mature features striking her as dangerous, especially the exotic tilt of her eyes. As a gypsy, black had never been a color Astra was fond of – she much preferred earth-tones, white, and dull gem colors against her skin, feeling that those colors matched her background much better. But black…she would have to consider black as another choice.

Stepping out of the dressing room, Astra struggles to keep her expression calm – the Lieutenant Commander is also dressed in similar material, though he seems to have a green sheen to compliment the black. His pants are tight, tailored perfectly to his tall build, and he wears a zipped jacket with a high collar, the metal-plated Federation insignia also etched into his clothing. Though she was used to seeing him in similar colors, none of his uniforms ever expressed his lithe build quite the same way – this material seemed to emphasize his lean muscles in a distracting way.

So preoccupied as she was with his appearance, Astra entirely missed the way his steel-toned eyes took on a violet twinge, or how the tips of his ears heated the lightest lilac. He was inordinately satisfied with himself for choosing this clothing for the Cadet, enjoying how the dark color contrasted with her lily-white skin and made her delicate frame seem even more willowy – and womanly. He clears his throat politely – and pointedly – to draw her attention from his appearance, distantly enjoying the hot rush of blood to her cheeks.

Inside the garage, Khai critically eyes each of the hovering transportation vehicles, which Astra finds amusing, as he seemed to share a trait for vehicular appreciation with Terran males.

When Lieutenant Commander Khai does stop at his vehicle of choice, Astra blinks, almost stupidly. "A hover-bike?"

Khai tilts his head. "Indeed. Is there a problem, Cadet?"

"No, Sir," she shakes her head, slightly bewildered by his choice. "It's just…doesn't a hover-bike seem a bit illogical?"

One of Khai's dark brows rise a fraction of an inch and Astra could swear that the tiny twist of his mouth seemed amused. "On the contrary, Cadet. On Giidas, hover-bikes are the only transportation, as they use less fuel and are safer in design overall. Hover-bikes are certainly more logical than any other choice here. If you would like, the key I have is compatible with a number of other vehicles."

"No," she says quickly. "This is fine. I'm sure we're late enough as it is."

Khai's internal clock silently agrees – if they did not leave now, they _would_ be late by 3.7 minutes, which was unacceptable. Without hesitation, he climbs onto the bike; when Cadet Astra does not follow immediately after, he turns and stares at her blankly. "Cadet, your hesitation is illogical."

She frowns at him. "I know that," she snaps. "I know. Just…I'm going to have to touch you, Sir, and I thought Giidas-"

Lieutenant Commander Khai shakes his head once. "Incorrect, Cadet. Giidas only frown on skin-to-skin touch. It would be illogical to assume you would not have to touch me when I drive the hover-bike – in fact, if you did not hold onto my denser body, your own safety would be compromised. This would be most unsatisfactory and in violation of Federation Academy Protocol 3.243, Section 4-"

"Okay," she interrupts quickly, climbing onto the bike swiftly.

Khai had not anticipated the rush of physical pleasure that would assault him as Astra's thighs closed on either side of his hips – he catches his breath as her arms squeeze his middle tightly.

"I'm ready."

Khai closes his eyes and attempts to soothe his metabolic functions, which speed up by 7%. Uncharacteristically, his thoughts flash to a lustful territory, wondering what her skin would feel like against his own.

The swirl of intense, visceral black emotions – which had been forcibly removed through deep meditation – came back to the forefront of his mind with vengeance.

Possession; _she was his_.

Lust; _he would have her._

Desperation; _he needed her_.

Khai had no control over the emotions or their rage as he grappled for his sanity – he couldn't lose control over himself, not with _her_ so close, right behind him, not with _her_ holding on, pressing their bodies together. It would be too dangerous for her. He growls lowly in his chest, the rumble masked and easily excused by his quick fingers starting the hover-bike, which roars and then hums beneath their bodies. The Cadet latched onto his body gives no indication that she heard his slip-up – _satisfactory_. The distraction of starting the hover-bike was sufficient for him to clamp down and push away the violent, inky black emotions.

With a clearer mind, Khai presses two fingers onto the Federation insignia on his jacket and listens to the tiny clicks as a helmet and visor form from the stiff collar. After a moment, he hears similar sounds from behind him as the Cadet figures out that her Replicated cloak has the same feature. Khai revs the engine of the hover-bike and releases the throttle, the bike zooming and humming as it jets out of the garage.

Astra's arms tighten around the Lieutenant Commander's as the hover-bike escalates into the sky, the vehicle weaving around the sleek buildings of downtown Cairo. She can see the sun peeking from behind the clouds, feel the warmth _that much_ closer to her from her position in the sky. She imagined this is what birds felt like – equated this breathless rush of adrenaline to flying, wondered what Nanini would think of her surrogate gypsy daughter literally following the wind, traveling with the wind. Astra smiles and pulls back from Khai, her hands sliding from his stomach to his sides; without the support of his strong body, she feels as if the wind could take her away, her cloak flapping behind her. Heart beating faster, laughter bubbling up her throat as she completely lets go of the Lieutenant Commander, her knees pressed against his thighs acting like the only thing tethering her to the hover-bike.

As she is enjoying the adrenaline rush, her arms in the air as she laughs jovially, a tiny crackle filters through her cloak's helmet. "Cadet, that is not safe _,_ " the Lieutenant Commander says.

Her eyes widen and she leans forward, pressing her hands onto his shoulders. "Lieutenant Commander," she says with a light tone. "Our helmets have speakers."

Khai feels his brows furrow slightly. How odd that she had stated the obvious; to his knowledge, the Cadet had never been prone to do so. Rather, to his perception, she seemed to speak in turns of phrases that he couldn't follow as well as he desired – much to his distant frustration. "Yes, Cadet," he answers promptly. "It is only logical given the Terran hearing disadvantage. A number of other alien species would be able to hear a voice carried over the wind, but the Federation employs a majority of Terrans. The speakers built into the helmets are not optional."

Her voice, soothingly muted but bathed in what Khai assumed was joy, crackles through his helmet. "I didn't think they were," she tells him simply. "But I find the communication system in our helmets to be convenient."

"If you tilt your head 30 degrees to the left, you will be able to access the satellite radio stations."

He can feel her hum against his back. "You probably wouldn't want to listen to the music I like."

"If you choose to play music, I will not be privy to it as our radio access points are not linked through the grid."

"Oh," she sighs. "Okay, then. Thank you, Sir."

Khai, who had never regretted a single event or decision in his life, swiftly began to regret telling the Cadet of the radio access. It was close to Me'atal torture techniques the way her knee tapped against his thigh to a beat only she could hear, how she hummed along with the music, and the vibrations echoing against his spine. His metabolic functions quickly sped up and the inky black feelings emerged slowly, fighting their way to the surface of his mind. Only the fact that he had superior brain functions prevented him from succumbing to the emotions and settling the hover-bike down in the middle of the desert to claim the Cadet. He found his reactions to her vexing and completely illogical.

Of course, he could acknowledge on some level that the Cadet's beauty was unrivaled by any Terran, Anzite, Zainte, Me'atal, Piarie, or Giidas he had ever encountered. And he could even concede that she was quite brilliant in her own right. The Cadet was interesting, mysterious in her own ways, determined – all qualities that Khai had come to appreciate in other sentient life forms.

None of that, however, was a satisfactory reason to explain the emergence of his more primal thoughts and emotions – both of which he had been assured was programmed out of his genetic coding. By all logic, if his genetics were correct, he should not be forced to encounter these particular emotions.

Khai's breath catches for a fraction of a second. _Unless_ , of course, his genetic coding was incorrect or not configured properly or to the standards that the scientists in the Giidas Institute of Science had sought for. At 22 years old, Khai did not expect to begin malfunctioning – all logical reasoning and scientific equations pointed to his demise being precisely 112 after his birth. He weighed the possibility of a grave mistake in his genetic coding, which brought on a tense feeling of worry that he was not at all accustomed to.

Thankfully, or perhaps, unfortunately, the ride from the Federation base in Cairo to the shipyard was only half an hour long and he did not have further time to reflect on his postulations.

With practiced ease, Lieutenant Commander Khai parks the hover-bike near the front entrance of the shipyard, just beyond the towering gate and fence; without his prompting, Cadet Astra scoots back on the seat, giving him enough room to get off so that he could turn to offer her assistance with his gloved hand. He very briefly found it fortunate that he had chosen to Replicate gloves for himself so that he would have opportunities to assist the female Cadet without having to compromise his touch-telepath sensibilities – it would be extremely untoward of a Giidas such as himself to allow the sensitive telepathic nerves on his hands into contact with the skin of another being.

As the Cadet allows him to assist her off the hover-bike, his eyes again betray his intentions as they slide over the dark clothing covering her lily-white skin, assessing – and enjoying – how the stockings clung to her toned legs.

Unfortunately, it seemed that other males likewise appreciated the Cadet's physique.

After identifying himself and the Cadet, Khai breezes through the front gates of the shipyard with a straight back and a blank face. Immediately upon entering, his eyes assess the progress of the _Nova_ through the thick, reinforced glass of the gleaming steel building that protected the growing ships – half of the ship was covered in specialized micro-metal material that was standard for such ships, while the other half was exposed, showing the layers of floors and the turbolifts in the center. Khai's scientific curiosity was fascinated by the mechanics of the ship, enthralled by the wiring – he did not mind inspecting the _Nova_ in place of Captain Godric for that very reason, aside from the fact that it was his duty as a First Officer to the Captain to take the Captain's place when necessary. He nods a greeting to several engineers in the yard, a confused twitch of his brow when none of the engineers pay him any mind – in fact, _none_ of the engineers had saluted him, which was abnormal.

Khai follows their line of sight to understand what has so many Federation officers and engineers so distracted.

The Cadet, following him as closely as a Giidas female would, her hands at her side, eyes flashing bright orange with her curiosity, has drawn their attention – and admiration. Almost immediately, inky swirls of black emotion emerge with vicious intent, a low growl rumbling possessively in his chest. Khai steps closer to Astra, his face cold as he addresses the engineers in a decidedly un-Giidas way. "At ease," he says pointedly, his cold tone carrying across the yard.

To his satisfaction, several of the engineers and officers appear to be embarrassed by their fumble of Federation etiquette. A few drop the items they are carrying in order to properly salute him. The Lieutenant Commander ignores them completely, simply continuing on his way.

This inspection was of particular importance, as it was a checkpoint inspection of the bridge, which was where the higher-up officers would be spending the majority of their time. Khai was curious to see if the helm and navigation systems he upgraded had been installed yet, as he had further recommendations to make them more flexible in the event of an ionic storm that might disrupt the warp drive energy and, thus, the energy of the ship. And, as such was the nature of the inspection, Lieutenant Commander Khai would be walked through the inspection with the Head Supervisor of the Cairo shipyard, along with the Engineering Supervisor.

Lieutenant Commander Khai had never met the Head Supervisor – but he could logically assume that the smarmy character with greased back dark hair and equally dark, calculating eyes was the man he was to meet. He could also assume that the Head Supervisor had absolutely no idea _who_ Khai was or what the Lieutenant Commander looked like, as most people in the Federation do.

To the chagrin of the inky void of emotions in Khai's mind, the Head Supervisor directs all of his attentions to Cadet Astra when he and the Cadet approach. Behind the Head Supervisor is the Engineering Supervisor, a mild fellow with plain features and razor-thin glasses resting on his nose; the Terran immediately saluted when Khai stopped walking, his features morphing into Terran horror when the Head Supervisor neglects to do so. That expression only grows more dramatic as the Head Supervisor saunters past Khai and begins to invade the Cadet's personal space.

For her part, Astra is truly shocked – and truly disgusted – by the audacity of the man, who she characterized as _slimy_. She did not like the way his eyes lingered on her figure, which was nothing like the way the Lieutenant Commander's did. When _this_ man looked at her, she felt dirty. Unfortunately, this was a familiar feeling. As a gypsy – as a young _female_ gypsy – who had been on her own since she was twelve, Astra had her fair share of close-calls with hormonal grown men. Half the time she had to run was _because_ of men like that. She did not appreciate being ogled, especially with the Federation insignia on her chest; it brought back feelings that Astra didn't care to recall, most notably the feeling that she was not good enough to be part of the Federation or the stars.

Her jaw clenches and she glares at the man, taking a pointed step backward; she gathers that her eyes must have flashed red with anger because the man's grin turns even more lecherous.

"Oh, an alien girl. What kind are you? I bet I've never had your kind before – but if I have, I'm sure you'll blow my mind anyway," he says lowly, his eyes raking over her body.

Astra inhales sharply. "I am _Terran,_ you slimy son of a bit-"

"Cadet," Khai interrupts coolly. She turns her attention to him, watching as his steel-toned eyes move along with the tilt of his chin, indicating that she steps closer to him

Relieved – because Astra was unsure if the Lieutenant Commander would assist her with this issue – Astra hurriedly moves, anxious to put as much distance as possible between her and the slimy man. As she takes a step away, a beefy hand closes around her wrist, halting her progress. Her eyes, which had only flashed a bare, quick red before, begin to bleed the color, the bright crimson seeping into her irises deeply. "Let go of me," she orders, her tone as cold as a true Giidas.

The man smirks. "Hold on, honey, I could show you a good time after I get off. I mean, we could both get off."

Before Astra can even think of a response, a tall, lithe body cuts between her and the man, and the Lieutenant Commander's long fingers close on the man's wrist, the fingertips twitching with a precise rhythm that makes the man gasp and let go of her. When the Lieutenant Commander speaks, his voice is terser than she had ever heard before. "You would do well to salute your commanding officer and not harass cadets," he says, releasing the man's wrist roughly.

The man's face is pale – obviously in pain – as he clears his throat, attempting to gain composure. "Commanding officer?"

The Engineering Supervisor pushes his glasses up his nose. "This is Lieutenant Commander Khai, Sir," he says helpfully.

The man's eyes widen significantly, heat crawling up his neck. "My apologies, Sir," he salutes quickly, his eyes darting over to Astra anxiously.

"Apologies," Khai says blandly, his eyes narrowed. "Are illogical."


	17. Part 1: 17

**17**

_Terra, Egypt, 2621_

The inspection of the _Nova_ was something of an experience. It became increasingly clear that most of the engineering terminology used was over her head, though she did understand the basic idea behind the discussions; it also became increasingly impressive as Lieutenant Commander Khai switched topics smoothly, his extensive knowledge clear as he offered toneless suggestions and made bland observations, all of which the Engineering Supervisor took very seriously, going so far as to jot down notes. The Head Supervisor, on the other hand, seemed to express little to no knowledge or understanding of the general terminology being used, which made Astra wonder _why_ he was employed in the first place. If anything, the Head Supervisor wasted long moments of time grilling the Engineering Supervisor about nonsensical details while shooting her smug smiles, as if she was supposed to be impressed by his annoying and pathetic prowess. The Lieutenant Commander, though his expression remained as blank as ever, also appeared rather putout with this behavior.

Aside from her hopefully well-hidden dislike of the Head Supervisor, Astra greatly enjoyed the inspection. The _Nova_ , though half-completed, was spectacular, a true sight to admire. The finished floors that she had been on were done with white-on-white-on-silver, with concave walls and sleek lines – and the bridge was indescribable, beautiful in a stark way. Astra stood in front of the Communication desk, which was centered to the left of the wide, oblong window that the Helmsman, Captain, and Navigation Officer would eventually sit in front of. She feels a jolt of excitement, knowing that one day this would be _her_ desk, _her_ place in the universe, traveling amongst the stars.

Eventually though, as with all things, the inspection had to end and Astra enjoyed a moment to take one last lingering look at the _Nova_ as the sunset on the Cairo skyline, painting the shining silver and white with rays of yellow, orange, and pink. She stood near the edge of the shipyard, feeling absolutely tiny in the shadow of the great spaceship, the name sutured onto the side of the ship in bold letters. _U.F.S NOVA._ The strap of her li'lute pulling across her chest beneath her black-violet cloak made her fingers tingle – she so wanted to play beneath this giant shadow of the starship and wondered, for a bare moment, if the Lieutenant Commander would let her, before deciding that she would deem such an idea _illogical_. It wasn't as if the ship could appreciate her music, after all, even if the technicians and engineers could.

She is jolted out of her admittedly wistful thoughts as the Lieutenant Commander calls her name to gain her attention. "Cadet Astra."

"Sir?"

Lieutenant Commander Khai clears his throat, which had quite suddenly gone dry. After bidding both the bothersome Head Supervisor and the helpful Engineering Supervisor good-bye, he'd taken a very good look at the height of the sun in the sky in relation to his internal and biological clocks. Khai concluded that it would be most logical to attain his evening meal now, rather than later, as it would take time to get back to the transporter room in downtown Cairo and even more time to reach his own quarters in London, near the Academy. As Khai always took his evening meal at 6, his calculations indicated that, given the amount of travel necessary to arrive at his home, his schedule would be thrown off by a total of 14.7 minutes, which was unacceptable. In light of that discovery, he had approached the Cadet with the intention to alert her to the change in plans he had just logically decided.

Only, unfortunately, after gaining the Cadet's attentions, Khai found himself rather reluctant to speak – in fact, it seemed that his own biological functions _refused_ such action. He found himself frowning and examining the Cadet with hard eyes. In truth, he had never seen her striking features in such lighting, the orange and yellow rays seeming to put highlights of golden-red into her hair and make her eyes appear tinted with a base amount of copper. Illogically, he was quite literally stunned speechless. He had not considered this a potential occurrence, though maybe he should have, given the Cadet's unique beauty and the odd reactions he had to the inky black swirls of emotions that she inspired. Khai clears his throat again and gathers his thoughts, which had scattered away along with his speech.

"Sir, are you okay?"

Khai forces himself to look away and finds that he can speak with startling ease now that he is not looking directly at the Cadet. _Fascinating_. "Affirmative, Cadet," he answers blandly. "There is a diner that is frequently used by Federation engineers in Cairo. Given the time of day, I find it most logical to dine there rather than take the transporter back to London."

Astra raises a brow at his angular profile. She didn't dare point out the fallacies in his logic – the most obvious of which was to simply go home and eat there, as that was where they were both familiar with – as she assumed he had already considered the flaws in his thinking, which were most likely outweighed by some sort of internal timing he thought he had to follow. Having only been his official student aid for a little less than a few days and knowing that he seemed to operate on a strict schedule and preferred punctuality to being a few moments early or late, Astra also assumed that he was rather intent on this course of action, which, to her, seemed rather out of character.

"Have you eaten there before, Sir?"

"Once," he admits. "The food and drink are agreeable to the palate of many species."

 _Meaning they served alien food_ , she thought wryly. Instead of smiling at his slightly evasive speech patterns, she begins walking towards the shipyard gates, her stride quickly taken up by the Lieutenant Commander's longer legs so that she ends up walking behind him and to the right. "Do they serve plomeek soup, Sir? I've had a craving all day."

"Pomleek soup, Cadet?" the Lieutenant Commander repeats without inflection, though, if she didn't know any better, she would think he sounded surprised. "That is a Giidas dish."

She nods even though he cannot see her movement behind him. It came as no surprise to Astra that the Lieutenant Commander was questioning her choice of food – most Giidas cuisine was spicy and rich, too rich for Terran palates, especially those who seemed to carry genetic markers for Asian heritages like her. By simply studying the tilt of Astra's exotic eyes, it was easy to see that somewhere down the line of her genetic make-up, she had an ancestor who was most likely Chinese or Japanese – even Nanini had said as much, along with other gypsies of mixed blood. So, though Lieutenant Commander Khai would never say as much, she knew he thought it _illogical_ that one who seemed to carry that genetic code would enjoy outrageously spicy food. Yet, Astra did and she did intend to eat the traditional Giidas soup, perhaps with some sort of Giidas tart for dessert, simply to irk the Lieutenant Commander.

"I know, Sir. The last time I was in Egypt, I was playing for money to purchase that soup and I would like to finally fulfill that craving," she tells him, not noticing the lilac flush to the tips of his ears. "The few times I've had plomeek soup, I have enjoyed it."

"Interesting, Cadet," he says after a moment, stopping in front of his hover-bike and sliding onto the seat. Khai's body tenses for a moment as the Cadet slides on behind him, her thighs once again pressed against his hips, her arms wrapped around his waist.

The full-body contact, though completely clothed and covered, sent thrills through Khai's body – and Astra's. She had never been this close to a man before, just as Khai had never been this close to a woman. And yet, they each had a startling realization that, even with the height difference, their bodies seemed to mold together comfortably, harmoniously. With his greater senses, he could feel the Cadet's heartbeat adjusting to the rate of his own, with was naturally higher than a Terran's, though not so high as a Piarie. He found it fascinating that the Terran body was able to calibrate itself to match the metabolic functions of another sentient being.

As he started up the hover-bike, Khai's thoughts skidded to a halt, backtracking to his last line of reasoning. As a Terran, her body should _not_ be able to calibrate itself to copy his metabolic functions – Terrans were simply not capable of doing so. His mind recalled all the oddities of the Cadet; her nails; her eyes; the barely-visible point of her ears; her submissive walk he had noticed today. All indicative of a Giidas. Yet she had such illogical actions, such as running away from a high-ranking Federation officer and the entirely-Terran determination that was her personality. He again pondered the notion that the Cadet was not what she appeared – which was, for the most part, Terran. Yet the Giidas traits…

It was plausible, but it _couldn't_ be possible.

The Lieutenant Commander knew that the chromosomes of a Giidas – 38 – and the chromosomes of a Terran – 23 – were compatible on a certain level, meaning offspring _could_ be possible between the two races. It was, however, unlikely that any such child would result from a natural union, meaning scientific intervention would be necessary. To his knowledge, the Giidas Science Institute, where he was raised, was the only capable genetics modification industry in the Federation, which would logically mean that records of Cadet Astra would have to be present in the Institute's library. Yet, also to his knowledge, he was the only survivor of seven experimentations that were able to sustain life, and even then, his superior genetic code was entirely Giidas. Having been raised in the Institute, Khai knew better than perhaps anyone else that there were no other children projected after him. He was the seventh and the last.

Logically, he surmised that perhaps the quirks of Astra's physiological and mental capabilities and appearances were just that – quirks. Terran genetics had begun mutating in the past hundred or so years; therefore, it was not illogical to speculate that the gypsy girl was one of those mutations to a greater genetic line. As it was, he logically concluded that the girl molded to his back was entirely Terran, as there were no records or evidence of a half-Terran-half-Giidas child ever having been born or created at the Institute. Her oddities were simply and logically oddities and it was becoming _illogical_ for him to continue to ponder her oddness.

"Is there a problem, Lieutenant Commander?"

Wordlessly, Khai presses his fingers against the Federation insignia, waiting as the helmet builds and clicks into place. He waits as her helmet is built. "There is no problem, Cadet," he answers eventually, once the communication line is established between their helmets.

"Alright," she says evenly. "I'm hungry."

Lieutenant Commander Khai revs the engine of the hover-bike, wondering why Terrans found it necessary to state their biological needs so freely. He does not comment on this and instead focuses on ignoring the feel of her warm, lithe little body pressed against his back.

To Astra, the hover-bike ride went by much quicker than she expected; she actually felt disappointed when the Lieutenant Commander parked the vehicle next to several others in front of a slightly run-down establishment. Taking a page from the Lieutenant Commander's own book, Astra keeps her face carefully blank as he leads them into the diner; the rusted, worn-down interior matched the exterior bricks and Astra struggled not to comment on how _this_ place didn't seem like somewhere _he_ would go. She assumed he liked the Spartan, utilitarian chrome that the Federation was fond of, especially given the fact that he was Giidas. The absolute last place she would have pegged him to dine at was this very Terran throwback to a hole-in-the-wall from the 21st century.

Yet, as her eyes cut to the side to observe him, the Lieutenant Commander seems comfortable – and completely oblivious that the entire diner had quieted the second he calmed down. It was a paradox; while Lieutenant Commander Khai appeared more comfortable in the diner, the other patrons appeared _less_ comfortable with him around.

Stiff with his posture and his equally blank visage, Lieutenant Commander Khai selects a simple booth near the middle of the diner; Astra follows quickly, sitting down across from him, feeling distinctly uncomfortable by the silence that was slowly returning to noise, though she could tell it was more subdued than normal. She could feel the heavy weight of eyes on her, which made her fingers twitch nervously, her silver-glinting nails tapping against the case of her li'lute absently. That in itself – _the staring_ – was an odd occurrence for Astra. As a gypsy, she was accustomed to simply blending in, melting into large crowds, her presence not disturbing the noise as she had learned how to make herself invisible or unnoticeable, especially given the discrimination against gypsies in the Federation. For her, being unnoticed was a life or beaten-to-death situation – and obviously, this was not the case for the full-blooded Giidas sitting across from her, idly browsing the out-dated, plastic-covered menu. The Lieutenant Commander didn't seem to care either way if his mere presence in the diner was disrupting anyone's peace of mind. It didn't phase him. Probably didn't even occur to him, given his propensity to obliviousness.

Astra sets her jaw, eyes discreetly dancing across the faces of the Federation engineers, several of whom were drinking and grease-smudged. Her attention, again, settles on the Lieutenant Commander as a meek Terran waitress approaches the table. The Lieutenant Commander orders a very simple and traditional Giidas meal, one that Astra understands is very hard to mess up; she, however, is brave, confidently ordering the pomleek soup with a smile that hopefully made up for Khai's nearly rude demeanor. The waitress smiles uneasily, a mere twitching of her lips, before scurrying away with Astra watching, her head tilted in thought.

"Lieutenant Commander?"

Khai's steel-toned eyes connect with Astra's wispy grey, the dim light of the dinner making the soft color seem darker than it truly is. "Yes, Cadet?"

For a moment, Astra feels her face tense along with her body. Asking this question was potentially rude or offensive and she had no desire to be kicked out of the Academy for simply making a suggestion. She hesitates. _Then again, when have I ever been one to hold back?_ "Lieutenant Commander, are you happy with the progress of the _Nova_?"

"Happiness is illogical. However-"

"Wait," she interrupts quickly, leaning forward, eyes wide. "Happiness is _illogical_?"

"Of course, Cadet," Khai answers, tilting his head. "Such a level of contentedness is greatly debated by all philosophers, past and present, in the Federation. No one person can define universal happiness or personal happiness. Giidas believe that something that is not defined or unable to be defined is rooted in chaos. Chaos is not logical. Therefore, by extension, happiness is also illogical, given the lack of definition and the pretense of chaos the emotion presents."

Astra leans her elbows on the table. "Are you unhappy, Sir?"

Khai's left eyebrow twitches a quarter of a centimeter before his face blanks out. "I am not unhappy, nor am I happy. I simply am."

Astra shakes her head. "But, are you content or satisfied with your life?"

 _Interesting. The Cadet seems…concerned for my mental well-being_. Khai sits up straighter as if compensating for Astra's alarmingly relaxed posture. "While Giidas do not believe in happiness, we do assimilate with feelings of satisfaction. I am, in fact, satisfied with my life," he answers, watching her lush pink lips pull into a slight frown.

After a second more of hesitation, the Cadet blinks. "Are you _satisfied_ with the progress of the _Nova_?"

Khai notes with mild curiosity that she seems very intent on this question in particular; he takes an extra, and unnecessary, three seconds to gather his answer. "Progress on the _Nova_ continues to hold steady, though there have been minor delays that are…unsatisfactory. Captain Godric is in charge of the progress, however, so I am not to reserve any judgment on the progress, as he has decided that the engineers are working at an acceptable pace."

Astra quickly reads between the lines of his spoken words. "But you think it could be faster."

"Indeed," he replies blandly.

"Lieutenant Commander," she begins softly, her eyes cast down for a second before her expression becomes imploring, her eyes tinted with the lightest blue. "Do you suppose that the productivity on the _Nova_ might increase if you adopted a more…inviting persona?"

Khai feels his brows furrow slightly as he considers her question. Captain Godric had said something similar, though much less delicately.

" _If the engineers didn't think you were made of stone, ready to suck their souls out, maybe things would go as fast as you want them to, Khai."_

" _Captain…It is physically impossible to suck another's soul out, assuming that souls do, in fact, exist."_

" _Khai….sometimes I wonder if you actually listen to me."_

Khai straightens his head from its tilted position. "You postulate that by conforming to Terran mannerisms, the engineers would be more motivated to work harder, thus increasing the productivity and bringing the completion date of the _Nova_ up to a more acceptable timeline," he states, his deep voice low, not carried through the din of the still muted diner.

"I do," she says with as much confidence as she can muster.

"An interesting theory. How do you suggest I do this, Cadet?"

Astra blinks. Admittedly, she hadn't thought that far and she hadn't anticipated that the Lieutenant Commander would inquire about methods to support her theory. She truly wanted to tell him to simply _be friendly_ , but she suspected that he believed he _was_ being friendly, for a Giidas, at least – telling him to be _friendlier_ also wouldn't work. She knew the Lieutenant Commander well enough to understand that he required a very detailed picture to be painted; her advice, then, would have to start small. Spotting the waitress coming back with their food, Astra scans the diner and the attached bar, an idea forming in her mind. When the waitress carefully sets down their hot food, Astra smiles kindly at her, silently hoping that the Lieutenant Commander wouldn't mind paying the tab for what she was about to do. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

Astra clears her throat, pointing a finger towards a group of particularly exhausted engineers sitting in a corner booth. "Would you mind bringing them a round of whatever is on the house tap?"

The waitress looks in the direction Astra was pointing and a small smile blooms on her face. "From you?"

"No," Astra says confidently. "Tell them it's from the Lieutenant Commander."

The waitress nods and walks off quickly, leaving Astra and Khai to their meals.

The Lieutenant Commander looks very confused for a Giidas, his steel eyes boring into her own. "I do not understand."

"On Terra," Astra says with an educational air, a smile tugging at her lips. "It's customary to buy a round of drinks for colleagues, as a thank you."

"Alcohol both inebriates and serves as thanks?"

"Yes," she says simply, watching as the waitress carries over a heavy tray of frothy caramel-colored beer, setting the tray on the engineer's table. Astra can tell when the waitress reveals who the beer is from because seven shocked faces whip in Khai's direction. " _Wave_ ," she hisses under her breath. " _Smile. Do something_." She is tempted to kick his leg beneath the table.

Looking uncomfortable – and probably feeling even more so – the Lieutenant Commander holds up his palm and nods once.

Astra closes her eyes and shakes her head. At least he was trying.

* * *


	18. Part 1: 18

**18**

_Terra, Egypt, 2621_

"I am unsure of your hypothesis, Cadet."

Astra leans forward on her elbows again, empty soup bowl forgotten on the table. The Lieutenant Commander, she observed, ate with nearly robotic perfection, his hands never touching his food, each bite carefully chewed and swallowed. She was no slouch in eating, by far in comparison to Ja'asper, but eating with the Lieutenant Commander made her feel awfully like a slob - she finished a full ten minutes before he did, only feeling her contrite embarrassment when he continued his pace. She attributed her own speed of eating to her previous life, where starvation made every morsel that much more important to feed herself with, and the faster she ate, the better. Instead of lingering on those thoughts, though, and began to further convince the Lieutenant Commander that by behaving for Terran he would be more likely to gain his desired results; the task was much more difficult than she thought it would be. "You've not given it any time to work."

"The premise is most illogical, though," he points out, taking another slow bite of food. She recognized the dish he was eating and her stomach grumbled; the soup was simply not enough to keep up with her accelerated appetite. For a moment, she considered ordering more food – after all, the food she ate at the Academy was entirely Replicated and she was currently enjoying the novelty of hand-prepared food, which was a rare occurrence even on her travels – but pushed the desire away. She'd already taken the liberty of ordering a round of drinks on behalf of the Lieutenant Commander and truly didn't need to add onto his tab with her protesting stomach.

"I think it's perfectly logical. Be nice to someone, and they will be nice to you."

"What are the parameters of your definition of the word _nice_ , Cadet?"

"Giidas don't believe in being nice?"

"We believe nice is an arbitrary word to describe a demeanor that is similar to universal politeness."

Astra shakes her head. "But that's just it. You feel that you are being polite, but it comes off as cold and distant. It makes you unapproachable, intimidating."

"Are you not intimidated?" he asks blandly, taking another bite of food.

Astra offers a wry smile. "I'm used to you. Besides, we had an unusual introduction, wouldn't you agree?"

"That is a fact, Cadet."

"I'm glad you agree, Lieutenant Commander. But back to my point. To Terrans, you don't seem to be polite."

At this, Lieutenant Commander Khai's face betrays his surprise with a slight flinch of his brows, a twitch that gave away to his emotions, however suppressed. "Indeed?"

"Terrans expect more than politeness from each other. It's a social requirement, I think, to be warm, hospitable, helpful. We must be both polite and _nice_ to each other, especially close friends and colleagues."

"Fascinating," he replies. "Buying drinks falls under this qualification of being _nice_?"

"It does," she confirms. "Because you didn't _have_ to buy them drinks, it's nice that you did."

"If I am to understand you," Khai replies slowly. "You mean to say that being nice is a social-cultural construct that indicates receptiveness to others that is a measurement above politeness, which in the Terran mindset is arbitrary in comparison to behaving nicely. Therefore, by behaving nicely rather than politely, Terrans will interpret my requests with a greater sense of urgency, thus completing their work at a more acceptable pace."

Astra tilts her head to the side, the thick fringe of her hair exposing her forehead and the straight arch of her brow. "Exactly."

"I believe I understand," he tells her tonelessly. "Though I do not comprehend why the buying of alcoholic beverages is an indication of nicety of my Terran behavioral qualifications. It seems most illogical."

Astra sighs. "You're impossible," she says without thinking. When her mind catches up to her mouth, her grey eyes flash yellow in fear that she overstepped her boundaries. She had, after all, just said something very disrespectful to a commanding officer.

The Lieutenant Commander, however, does not react outwardly. He blinks. "I am here, in front of you, and therefore exist, making me completely _possible_ in every sense of the word. Your statement was highly illogical."

She laughs, a bell-like tinkling sound, free and without apology, a sudden contrast to the soothing register of her voice. "Do you do that on purpose?"

"I have no idea to what you are referring," he tells her.

The Cadet laughs again, having no idea what the expression of her amusement does to the Lieutenant Commander. Discreetly, he shifts in his seat, eager to alleviate the sudden pressure in his groin and the flash of warmth racing down his spine, inky black emotions swirly beneath the firm cap of his mind. Stubbornly, he refuses to acknowledge the reaction of his rebelling body and pushes his finished plate away, ready to rise and leave.

Before he does, however, an engineer with a kind face and ready smile from the table that the Cadet had sent drinks to ambles over. Khai's posture reverts back to a certain stiffness he reserved for strangers, his body language belying his urge to scowl and close himself off.

Holding a half-empty mug of house tap beer, the engineer nods at both the Cadet and the Lieutenant Commander. "Just wanted to thank y'all for the drink," he says in a thick Southern American accent, his words twanging and drawled. "Mighty kind of ya."

Khai is unsure of what to do. He had never experienced a situation such as this. As if on reflex – _illogical reflex –_ the Lieutenant Commander looks towards the Cadet, who simply tilts her head in the engineer's direction. He has no idea if this is a subtle clue or not and exactly 5.7 seconds have passed since the engineer spoke; since Khai has not replied, the moment is becoming awkward.

"You're welcome," Astra steps in, furrowing a brow at the Lieutenant Commander, whose face shutters off blankly, though she _thinks_ she can see a hint of relief in the corners of his mouth. "The Lieutenant Commander just wanted to thank you for all of your hard work," she continues warmly.

The engineer smiles widely. "That so? I'll tell ya what, the _Nova_ is the best-damned ship bein' built! The Federation ain't gonna know what hit 'em."

"Indeed," Khai says after a beat. "I am also satisfied by the designs."

The engineer appears a bit surprised. "Are ya? We were under the impression tha' ya didn't so much like it."

"On the contrary, I find the progress admirable."

"Well, I'll be damned!" the engineer exclaims, standing up, obviously drunk from his body language and the sloshing mug in his hand. "Will y'all listen to this? Lieutenant Commander here is actually likin' what we been doin' in the shipyard," he tells his friends loudly.

"Excellent!" a younger engineer says excitedly.

The Southern engineer turns back. "I'm Ben," he says, holding his hand out, his face falling when Khai does not return the gesture. "Uh…"

Again, the Cadet steps in. "Sorry, Ben. The Lieutenant Commander, as a Giidas, does not do handshakes. It's a cultural thing, nothing personal."

Ben's face lights up. "Ah, I _see_. Well, any case, y'all want to join us for a 'round 'a some pool?"

Khai is floored – rather, as surprised as a superior-blooded Giidas could be with his genetically coded emotional control. It appeared that the Cadet's hypothesis of adopting a new persona in order to encourage higher work production might have some merit after all. He had never been invited to play pool – or any other game – not even during his days at the Academy, however brief those were. Khai looks at the Cadet in askance, even though he was never one to seek advice from others; though that policy did seem to change around Cadet Astra and, to a lesser extent, Captain Godric, who offered advice unsolicited.

The Cadet seems to gather what his blank expression means and turns a beaming smile onto the engineer, Ben. Khai struggles to keep a lid on the sudden roar of inky black emotions – she should only smile at _him_.

"I'm afraid I'm no good at playing billiards, but I'm sure the Lieutenant Commander would enjoy a game or two," she answers for him.

Ben takes a long drink of his beer and turns to the bartender. "'right then. Next round's on me!"

As Ben walks away with only a slight stumble, the Cadet turns expectant wispy grey eyes on Lieutenant Commander Khai. He sits up straighter in response. "Cadet?"

"Aren't you going to follow him?"

"I…Yes. Indeed, I will," he says, stiffly standing, waiting beside the table until she stands. He feels very out of his element, a sentiment that he hadn't quite experienced since arriving on Terra all those years ago when he'd had to adjust to the considerably lower atmospheric density. "You are coming as well."

Astra raises a brow at his tone, which was distinctly _bossy_ , and smothers a laugh. The Lieutenant Commander seemed very uncomfortable, but she thought it was good for him – as the ancient Terran saying went, one always caught more flies with honey than vinegar. Though, in this case, one catches more flies with honey than stony dispositions. She was almost certain this would work; and if she was wrong, which she wasn't, she was sure it was worth the effort at the very least.

Standing, Cadet Astra follows the Lieutenant Commander towards the back of the diner, where the grunge of the bartop turns into a legitimate bar, similar to the holo-vids he had seen of the past – he believed they were called _dive-bars_. He hadn't had any idea that this part of the diner existed; all of his previous experiences here, he had eaten and left immediately after. For a moment, he wonders if it is appropriate to bring a Cadet to this establishment – rather, was it appropriate to bring a _female_ Cadet? It wasn't often that a Giidas doubted his judgment, but with logical reasoning, he considered his actions the most appropriate at the time. And it was too late to retract his verbal – or the Cadet's – agreement with Ben, never mind the fact that he was indeed curious about Astra's hypothesis.

The back of the bar is a bit dimmer than the diner section, and considerably more lively with most of the patrons either drunk or well on their way to _becoming_ drunk. Khai found the various social practices he observed to be fascinating: women laughing at something, men appearing to tease each other, and such an abnormal amount of _touching_ that he felt very out of place.

Ben turns, holding up one arm to gesture to the pool tables, which were created in the old style, completed with scuffed green felt-fabric. "This is it, Sir. Reckon ya wanna cue up an' be the breaker?"

"Indeed," Khai replies quietly, his memory recalling the exact rules and practices of this particular Terran sport. His hand closes around the cue, feeling the exact weight, and his eyes move to the pool table, calculating the exact geometry required to break the rack of balls. He senses, rather than feels, the sensation of eyes on him; the people surrounding the pool table, while still drunk, have grown quiet. He postulates that it is not often that Federation officers join them in recreational games. He waits patiently as Ben pulls the rack from the balls carefully and eyes the parameters of the pool table, leaning down, posture stiff with his shoulder tight, and swiftly connects the tip of the cue with the cue ball with a center stroke, pocketing two balls.

"Ya ever play 'fore, Lieutenan' Commander?"

"Negative."

"I still got a feelin' I'm gonna lose this here game."

Khai feels a flash of amusement, which is smothered promptly, along with the urge to lift his lips in a smile. "My turn is continued, correct?"

"Have at it," Ben replies warily.

Astra watches from the sidelines, genuinely pulled between being shocked that the Lieutenant Commander was so very good at the Terran game and a little smug that he was winning as if she was feeling his victory on his behalf. Beside her, a Terran woman, perhaps a few years older, quietly sips on a fruity smelling drink, the color of her hair almost matching her mocha skin-tone; her cheekbones contrasted sharply with the sleek, thin edge of her VISOR-glasses.

"The Lieutenant Commander is very good," the woman says softly, turning dark eyes covered by bluish VISOR screen. "I'm Angela."

"Astra," she responds with a smile, relaxing into the barstool she was seated on. "What are you drinking? It smells wonderful."

"A peach-mango Sunrise," Angela says with a smile. "Would you like one?"

"Underage."

Angela's brows shoot up, her eyes behind the VISOR screen blinking owlishly. "Really? Are my VISOR's malfunctioning, then? The fields are registering you as older…"

Astra laughs under her breath. "I'm sure they're fine," she assures the blind woman, idly marveling at medical science in her time. A few hundred years ago and people who were blind would have remained that way their entire life; yet, with the invention of the VISOR, they were able to see. Of course, the VISOR didn't truly provide artificial sight from what Astra understood – simply the electromagnetic scale and infrared levels that created shapes for the visually impaired.

"You sound older, too," Angela says simply, taking a sip of her drink.

"I'm only seventeen."

"Are you a Cadet?"

"Yes," Astra answers, tilting her head to the side. "How did you know?"

Angela smiles and taps her ears. "I might be blind but I'm not hard of hearing. You're here with Lieutenant Commander Khai?"

"I'm his student aid," Astra replies. "We were doing an inspection of the _Nova_ and it ran a little late. He insisted we eat here."

At the pool table, the Lieutenant Commander sinks another three balls, much to Ben's exasperation; the Southern engineer turns and hangs his cue back up, crossing his arms across his chest.

"You must be brilliant," Angela says with softness in her voice. "It's very rare that someone so young should have a position as a third-year…."

Astra furrows her brows as Angela's voice trails off. "Is something wrong?"

"No, it's just…." Angela's eyes squint behind the VISOR lenses. "I'm sorry, it's your electromagnetic scale. It's not really registering as Terran. You are Terran, right?"

"I am."

Angela sighs and shakes her head. "I think I need to get these checked out tomorrow, then. I can't have my electromagnet fields acting up when I'm editing the warp arrays."

"You're an engineer then?"

Angela smiles wryly. "I'm a Lieutenant Engineer, actually. Ben, my husband, is Lieutenant Junior on the _Nova_. We've been working on the warp core for about a year but we can't seem to upgrade it….Sorry, this is probably boring to you."

"No! It's not, I promise," Astra says quickly, turning her full attention on Angela. "I have a roommate, though, who is inventing a new warp design."

"Really?" Angela smiles. "Is she a third year?"

"Yes. Rosy. She's Zainte."

"Wonderful. I'd love to pick her brain sometime and maybe test out her design."

Astra smiles widely. "I could pass along her contact information," she says, taking out her pocket-com and waiting for Angela to do the same so that Astra can send Rosy's information along. "It's very nice of you."

Angela shakes her head. "Really, it's not. I'm about at my wits end. The Admiralty wants the _Nova_ to be much quicker since the primary use of the starship will be to evacuate people and shut down supernovas before they burst but I just can't seem to make the ship any faster. Theoretically, of course. Having fresh eyes might help us. Besides, I have to start going through recruitment catalogs soon. You might have just helped me cut down on my Ensign requirements."

"How do you even know if Rosy will be useful."

Angela winks behind the VISOR. "It's not often I hear about a Cadet reinventing the warp core technology. That's talent I'd like to have on-ship," she says confidently. "What is your track at the Academy then? Last I heard the Lieutenant Commander was teaching astrophysics."

"He teaches the Xenolinguistic courses now," Astra says.

Angela laughs daintily. "So many changes in a few years. You know, he was teaching at your age when I was a third-year?"

Astra raises a brow and covertly watches Khai sink another ball, looking startled when Ben claps him on the back. "I didn't know that. That's…"

"Impressive," Angela finishes. "It really is. I'm excited that someone so brilliant is going to be serving on the _Nova_. Do you plan to apply for a commission on the new ship, too?"

Astra nods resolutely. "Of course. I can't imagine being on another starship. I'm not sure at what capacity, though. I'm on the Xenolinguistic track but I'm also enjoying the intensive physical training and I plan to wield a saber."

Again, Angela's brows shoot up. "A _saber?_ Those are the new laser swords, right? They sound difficult."

"I like to work hard."

Angela hums under her breath. "I like that ambition," she smiles, taking another sip of her drink. "Here, let me get you something non-alcoholic to drink-"

"I got it," a gravelly voice says from behind Astra suddenly.

Her stomach sinks in dread as she recognizes the voice, the hair on the back of her neck standing up; the Head Supervisor. _He's like a tick_ , she thinks irritably, _Can't get rid of him_. Without her permission, her eyes seek out Lieutenant Commander Khai, whose posture becomes remarkably stiff when she catches his cold steel eyes. Khai takes a step forward just as the Head Supervisor's body heat crowds Astra's back; she quickly slips off the stool and presses her spine against the bar, glancing at Angela, who seemed rather confused. _Right. She can't see facial expressions_.

"I'm not thirsty," Astra says firmly, one of her legs slipping behind her, taking on a familiar stance as her knees bend slightly.

The Head Supervisor's eyes rake over her body. "You look thirsty."

"I'm not."

The Head Supervisor takes a step closer, a hand slinking out and moving towards her face, as if about to brush her hair back. Astra jerks her head infinitesimally and clenches her teeth. She refused to let this slime touch her – she was ready to fight.


	19. Part 1: 19

**19**

_Terra, Egypt, 2621_

In the span of a few seconds, every lesson Ja'asper had ever taught her flashed through Astra's mind, and her body shifts subtly, knees sinking into a slight crouch. Her peripheral vision easily picks out a dozen potential weapons – bottles, the chair, a picture on a hook, a pool cue – though none are close to her.

Astra had always had a need to prove herself, prove she was worth something. She had proved to Nanini that she was a good gypsy – both morally and in travels, able to survive on nothing but luck and wind. She had proved to herself that she was an excellent li'lute player, pushing herself during her early teen years to learn the instrument until her fingers were so sore they didn't want to move. She proved to the Federation Academy that she, _a gypsy_ , was good enough to be a student, perhaps even the best student the Academy had known. She had even proved to the Lieutenant Commander that she could learn how to meditate. And now, she would prove to him that she could protect herself; she wasn't blind, after all, and saw the way people treated her so gently, with the exception of Ja'asper and Rosy. She wasn't as delicate as she seemed and she _would_ prove that she didn't need anyone.

Somewhere, in a small distant part of her mind, Astra notes that mostly she wanted to prove to the Lieutenant Commander that she could do whatever necessary to survive. To her, it was of vital importance that she prove herself.

For as long as Astra could remember, she hadn't ever felt like she fit in with her peers, with the world. As much as she acknowledged belonging to the stars, she also acknowledged that she had a worrisome habit of pushing herself too far in her efforts to prove her worth. She suspected this feeling of displacement stemmed from her birth parents abandoning her – they certainly didn't want her and now Astra felt that she had to prove her worth in everything she did. It was an obsession. Harmful, painful, determined obsession.

The Head Supervisor's lecherous grin does not dissipate and, instead of retreating from Astra's surely menacing look – though she feared her features too delicate to actually communicate such an expression – the beefy man's hand continues in the direction of her face. His hand is much too rough as it reaches her skin and a shiver of revulsion races down Astra's spine; the smell of hard liquor is strong on his breath.

She feels completely disgusted and again, experiences a long moment of being _frozen_ , like earlier in the day. Ja'asper had warned against this; it didn't matter how well trained Astra was, her first real fight would always be the hardest. It made sense – she was having to completely reprogram her thought process so that, instead of running away like gypsies did for self-preservation, she would fight back. Offense. Defense. Get in, get out, get it done efficiently and with the least possible harm to herself was no longer an option; _now_ , it was kill or be killed. That kind of ruthlessness wasn't part of Astra's personality.

But when Lieutenant Commander Khai's body language turns from _subtly menacing_ to truthfully violent, Astra acts without thinking too much about it, her body flying into motion that had been ingrained in her muscle memory. The only thought in her head is that _now is her chance_. She doesn't need _anyone_ – least of all Khai – to protect her. She can damn well do it herself.

The first move is Me'atal in form and speed – her hand, so very small with the graceful lines of a practiced musician, closes around the Head Supervisor's wrist, and snaps the joint back with a distinct _pop_. Displaced. Maybe broken. Astra didn't much care. Her other hand, palm out, slams against his solar plexus, forcing him several feet from her body; her back free from the constraints of the bar behind her, she follows, sinking onto one knee and sliding on the dirty floor of the bar as the Head Supervisor stumbles back.

The second move is from old Terran martial arts; rocking back onto her toes, Astra leans her weight on her hands, towards the left, putting all of her inertia into swinging her right leg low on the ground, her foot slamming with forceful impact against the Head Supervisor's ankles. He falls. Hard. Groans.

Just like Ja'asper taught her, Astra's eyes scan her surroundings as she bounces onto her feet with agile grace. She is near a pool table, the Lieutenant Commander's and Lieutenant Junior Ben's and – there. The pool cue. Her hand grasps the wood, spinning the long stick in an arc over her head before coming down in a quick swoop, the end of the cue less than a centimeter from the Head Supervisor's throat. It would have been a debilitating blow with the potential to take his life if she had cracked his windpipe _just right_.

Standing tall, feet spread, chin up, Astra doesn't notice her eyes flashing red – bright, like rubies. "I said I wasn't thirsty," she tells him coldly.

The Head Supervisor is blinking. "My-wrist. My fucking wrist, you bitch!"

Astra tilts her head to the side, carefully pressing the tip of the pool cue into his neck, hard enough to leave a smudge of blue if she decides to remove her weapon any time soon. "Language."

"It's goddamn broken, you motherfucking alien-cock-sucking _whore_ ," he growls. "I should show you what a real damn man feels like when he's mad- Ack!"

Faster than the Head Supervisor can blink, the pressure from his throat is gone, replaced by a firm crack against his jaw. Astra spun the pool cue away from his throat and delivered a sharp smack with the thicker end against his face, cutting off his revolting words. "You're disgusting."

"Youf fuulkin' bitshh-"

"That is enough," Lieutenant Commander Khai cuts in. "Cadet, stand down."

Reluctantly, Astra drops the pool cue. She took Lieutenant Commander Khai's orders very seriously, following them instantly and _conveniently_ dropping the pool cue right on the Head Supervisor's groin.

She suppresses a smile at his pained groan, her eyes flitting away to the Lieutenant Commander's, who slowly raises a brow. She surmises that Lieutenant Commander Khai knew _exactly_ why she followed his orders so quickly.

For his part, Khai was waging an internal battle – part of him was impressed, albeit distantly, by the Cadet's skill. She moved very well, very quickly. Her movements were exact and precisely delivered; he could tell that Cadet Ja'asper, whom he understood was her primary physical instructor, had trained her to use her relatively lithe figure to her advantage. Her skill was admirable, nearly reminiscent of his own – though, by far, his methods appeared to be more brutal. Whether that was a product of his bio-weapon nature or simply a product of his personality, Khai didn't know.

The other part of him, on the other hand, was extremely agitated; so vexed that any male would have the gall to touch _her_ that his irises bled the faintest or red beneath the steel cover of his emotions. The black swirls of emotion were creating a storm in his mind, one that prompted him to end the life of his rival. With nearly ruthless control, he pushed those instincts away, determined to examine them in depth through meditation later on – he knew that these types of emotions and urges were programmed out of his genetic code. By all logic, he should _not_ be feeling them.

Beside him, the Cadet looks so alive – cheeks flushed Terran pink, exotic eyes tilted. He felt both pride and disappointment in the events; she was able to defend herself, yet he was not allowed.

On the floor, the Head Supervisor groans again, clutching his wrist, drawing Khai's attention to him.

Tonelessly, Lieutenant Commander Khai says, "I must report this incident to the Admiralty."

"Go 'headf," the Head Supervisor spits out, blood creeping down his chin from his mouth. "Thadt bitshh starthed ith."

"I disagree."

"I second that, Lieutenan' Commander," Ben says from the other side of the pool table, one of his arms gesturing to the silent and drunk engineers watching the scene with rapt attention. "From what _I_ saw, this here whelp wen' an' touched somthin' that ain't belong to 'im."

"Indeed."

"My VISOR hard drive is inclined to agree with you, Ben," Angela says, stepping up beside her husband with blank eyes covered by her sight device. "I could provide visual data, Lieutenant Commander."

 _Interesting_ , Khai thinks idly. _The other Federation officers seem to be coming to the aid of the Cadet instead of their direct superior. Perhaps her theory holds more merit than I previously assumed_.

"Lieutenant, see to it that you do that," Khai responds, his eyes catching Cadet Astra's brows rising sharply. "Please," he tacks on blandly, returning her look with a muted one of his own.

Oddly, the Cadet nods at him – as if in _approval_. Odder still, he nearly preened at the motion; in fact, the only thing holding him back from such a reaction was his steel-tight control over his metabolic functions.

"Whath 'bout 'er?" the Head Supervisor demands as he sits up, pointing one beefy finger in Astra's direction.

"What about the Cadet?"

"Bitshh broke my writst 'an my jaw!"

"Self-defense," Lieutenant Commander Khai says plainly. "I believe we have already established such," he reiterates, idly checking his biological clock with a tiny frown. Turning to the Cadet, he crosses his arms behind his back. "Cadet, we must return to London at this time. I must file a report."

The Cadet nods slowly. "Okay, Sir."

Khai bows his head once towards the engineers. "Have a pleasant evening," he tells them politely before turning stiffly on his heel and mechanically walking out of the back bar, the Cadet on his heels after offering her own rushed good-byes.

It isn't until Khai is seated on the hover-bike with Cadet Astra pressed against him that the flame of inky emotions comes back with vengeance. His blood boils with rage and the hover-bike speeds up to nearly dangerous levels of speed. Behind him, the Cadet frightfully asks what is happening to the hover-bike and with a feeling of distinct dread, Khai realizes that he has scared her.

Guilt blooms in his stomach, heavy like lead, as he slows the hover-bike down to an acceptable speed. Not only did he fail to protect her, but now he had likely frightened her with his behavior.

A lapse of control.

Frequent around her.

Something had to be done about it.

The Giidas Science Institute had indeed created him to be a weapon, one with total control over his body, his emotions, his chances of survival. He wasn't made to feel. The Cadet undermined all of that. For her safety and for his own peace of mind, Khai could not allow these inky black emotions to seep out anymore.

With a resigned, barely heard sigh, Khai accesses the part of his mind that was designed by the Healers at the Institute. It was similar to a manual shut-off valve, hidden in the barest lands of his mind, protected by walls of steel and stone; something he had never had to engage but of which he did without a second of hesitation, knowing that eventually, after a session of heavy meditation which would likely take all of Sunday to complete, his mind would reboot. Along with that reboot, Khai hoped the inky black emotions that craved the Cadet would also disappear.

Khai's mind shuts down, leaving only the shell of his body.

***N*O*V*A**

Astra suspected there was something very wrong with the Lieutenant Commander. He hadn't spoken or glanced at her nor had he even acknowledged her presence. He moved robotically and the steel-tone of his eyes was replaced by a blank black canvas. She thought back to the incident at the diner, wondering if she had missed something when they left; he seemed perfectly fine, _normal_ , to her. True, he had pushed the hover-bike to the extremes of its design, and that had scared her – she'd never been on anything that went quite so fast – but he slowed down soon after that. In fact, right after he slowed down, there seemed to be a shift in his body language as he sat up straighter, forcing her to push back from him so he could navigate turns into downtown Cairo.

In the transporter room of the Federation's base, he did not even acknowledge the two engineers; Astra did thank them on his behalf, considering how tired they appeared, likely having stayed behind to transport them back to London.

On the hover-bus ride home, his attention was completely focused on his Pad, likely filling out the incident report as promised.

Astra was unnerved by his very sudden change. Of course, the Lieutenant Commander had seemed unapproachable and stiff before, but this change had taken his personality to another level. It was as if he did not see anything, hear anything, or notice anyone. It was jarring, especially since she had personally grown accustomed to his inquires to her person and the small conversations she had enjoyed with him in the past.

Now, it was as if Astra did not exist on the same plane as he did. Almost like he shut down-

She startles out of her thoughts when the Lieutenant Commander's arm crosses quickly in front of her body, his long fingers pressing the button below the window. Her brows furrow – they were not at the Academy yet. Astra watches as he tucks his Pad into his jacket, the green-tinged leather material tight against his chest, and moves to stand.

Her hand darts out, closing around the bare skin of his wrist, the tiny area between the top of his gloves and the bottom of his sleeve. Astra's skin prickles, a rush of bumps racing down her arm, closely followed by a bolt of electricity, which races down her spine. Her mouth drops open, eyes wide and flashing white, as her body jolts once. She heaves a breath and her hand drops from his; the Lieutenant Commander continues as if she hadn't touched him. He leaves her dazed and rather confused on the hover-bus, her thoughts a jumble, loud, echoing all in her head.

"Miss? Miss, are you okay?"

Astra turns her head towards the sound of the voice, her heart pounding in her chest, her skin completely flushed. She feels ill. The owner of the voice is a young boy with bright green eyes and tawny hair; he is leaning across the aisle, peering at her with concern, his expression echoing that of the woman seated beside him. "I'm sorry."

"Dearie, your nose is bleeding quite a bit," the woman says in a gentle English accent, her hand digging around in a small purse that is strapped across her chest. She hands Astra a tissue.

Now that she had been informed of it, Astra was aware of the sensation of blood trickling out of her nose. Curious. She presses the tissue to her face and pinches the bridge of her nose tightly, her actions well practiced from the various nosebleeds she had in the past. "Thank you," she says faintly, her mind reeling. Oddly enough, Astra felt exactly like she usually did after rapidly learning a new language – and yet, she _hadn't_ learned a new language.

By the time she reaches the Academy bus stop, her nose has stopped bleeding, the distraction only replaced by a rhythmic throbbing in her head. She has no idea what could have brought this on.

The Academy is suitably dark for the time of day, though to Astra's dizzied perception, the lights of the sidewalk seem to be floating, glowing orbs, and the grass appears more blue than green. She stops at a bench, leaning her hip against the sure weight and structure, her limbs trembling and weak. She takes the tissue from her nose, gazing at the purplish blood.

 _Purple? My blood is red, red like roses, red, red, red_.

Astra shakes her head, pushes away from the bench, and stumbles against a tree as she gathers her coordination. She can see her dorm, though it does seem to be leaning to the left too much; she blinks, and the building rights itself.

Time passes – or what feels like time passes – and Astra blinks her eyes open again, finding herself in her dorm room, her gel-bed unmade, her li'lute case in her hands, where she had evidently removed it from her person. For a moment, she struggles to remember how she got to her dorm – time is missing, large black holes in her short-term memory. The feeling is all too familiar; the many times had she stumbled around after an episode of learning a new language, only saved by grace and luck that she had not been attacked during those times, except for the once. She sits heavily on the bed, much too hot in her violet-tinged leather cloak and dress, yet too tired to do anything about it.

She lays down slowly, cautiously, on her side, her eyes half-lidded, her breathing heavy. The room is spinning.

" _Circles, spinning, round and round and round_ ," she murmurs into the air, the language she speaks muted to her own ears. " _Spinning. It's all spinning, spinning._ "

***N*O*V*A***

_Consciousness is a funny thing. One does not have to be awake to be lucid, completely aware of what is happening. Astra wakes up in a dream – or is it a dream? She'd only ever dreamt of things that she had seen or she dreamt of her dreams; still, her dreams were often vague and far more dull than this. No, this was no dream. Everything her was sharp and static, brightly painful, achingly accurate._

_Not a dream, then._

_A memory._

_Yet, not her own memory. No, this was nothing she had ever seen before and the memory felt too far away to be her own. This memory was older than she was – not by much, but enough that she realized it couldn't possibly be her own._

_She's in a lab – all sharp angles, minimalistic, teeming with gadgets, com-units, and Pads full of notes. There is a large window that overlooks a child's room – rather, what appears to be a child's room or a room that seems to be making up for a child, though no child is present and the toys are all untouched. Astra gathers that the lab she is in is used to observe that room, that child, and she frowns. Everything here feels so cold, so off. As she looks at the room, a sense of resignation fills her; the person this memory belongs to resents this room because….Because someone important spends time here, too much time._

_Astra looks down and her brows furrow. Swollen stomach – pregnant. Delicate white hands lay over the stomach, feeling the infinitesimal thrumming of a heartbeat. There is a great feeling of love swelling in Astra's chest; this baby is loved, well-loved even before its birth._

_The door to the lab slides open and a hurried man enters – tall, dark hair, pale skin, grey eyes. Husband – mated husband. Scientist. Project manager. Not the father of the child in the room nor the child in the womb. His face is kind, though blank, and his eyes are concerned. The scientist looks up at Astra – no, not at her. Not her memory – it's the woman's memory. The scientist looks up at the woman. "R'anee. You're here."_

" _You didn't come home for lunch, Am'shel."_

_Am'shel appears contrite, though his face remains blank. Astra gathers that his facial expressions are well-known to the woman considering how well she was able to read the tiny tick that gave away his emotion. "I apologize, wife. It is the boy again."_

_Concern blooms in Astra's chest. It feels like her own concern – she's too close to the memory. Why does she know this memory, if it's not hers?_

" _What have they done to him now?" R'anee implores, stepping up to the observation window; as she does, a young boy, no more than five years old, steps into the room. R'anee gasps – as does Astra, though for a very different reason. While R'anee had gasped due to the boy's injuries, Astra had gasped because the boy was unmistakably, without question, the Lieutenant Commander._

_Khai._

_A handsome child, to be sure, his angular face softened by youth, his eyes large and serious, reddish hair cut short to his head. He moved like an adult. He did not smile._

_Astra's heart ached for him._

_A lab – he was raised in a lab. How horrible. Terrifying, she was sure, yet he didn't seem all that concerned about it._

_Through R'anee's eyes, Astra watches as Khai carefully pulls off his shirt, folding it without wincing, and placing the dirtied clothing into a hamper in the corner. His skin is tattooed with deep black markings – swirls, sharp angles, circles, all connecting, weaving into his hair, down his spine, over his shoulders, below his trousers. Child Khai turns to a flat mirror and examines his injuries with a critical eye; his jaw is swollen, his lip bloodied, bruises of varying colors and sizes blooming all over his small body. He appears to be favoring his right leg. With practiced ease, Khai turns from the mirror and moves across the room, retrieving a medical kit and methodically patching himself up._

_R'anee's hands cover her mouth as tears leak from her eyes – Astra can tell that R'anee blames pregnancy hormones for this lapse of emotional control. "Am'shel, what happened?"_

_Am'shel moves next to his wife, not touching, but offering his close proximity as comfort, as was the Giidas way. "A new training regime. A test to see if his armor could react quicker than an attack, to see if the armor could operate on a level above his conscious decision," he says tonelessly. "The armor must be upgraded tomorrow morning."_

" _Another procedure?"_

" _Yes."_

" _How much more do they expect his body to take?"_

" _His body is property of the Federation. Logically, he must endure everything, as is his duty."_

" _His body might be their property, Am'shel, but not his mind. Certainly, he feels just as much as you or I – sadness, anger, pain – and surely what he feels is more honest as he is a child," R'anee says softly, her hands again pressing against her stomach. Regret blooms on Astra's mind – R'anee's regret._

" _We are not…intentionally harming him," Am'shel says after a moment. "Neither is the Federation. He is a weapon, wife. That was what he was born to be and that is what he will become. We are perfecting the weapon."_

" _I see your logic, but I do not agree with it. What of my baby, Am'shel? What of the half-sibling to our son?"_

_Am'shel looks away from his wife's demanding gaze and R'anee knows it is because she is boldly displaying emotion on her face, without hesitance. She knows this makes him uncomfortable._

" _R'anee…"_

" _I felt the child's mind this morning, Am'shel," she confesses in a whisper. "I felt her. So innocent. Happy, safe, warm. She reached out to me, touched my mind with her own."_

_Am'shel meets his wife's gaze, his grey eyes darting down to R'anee's stomach. "The child is female?"_

_A wave of protectiveness washes over R'anee – Am'shel's emotions felt through their mating bond. Though he had never said it aloud, Am'shel felt something for the child that was not his, the child in R'anee's womb._

_Astra feels tears falling from her eyes – no, from R'anee's eyes. "Can you imagine a baby girl in all of this mess, Am'shel? If she survived, what would they expect of her?"_

_Am'shel did not answer, but R'anee knew he understood; they would raise the female child as a breeder for more weapons, even though the child wasn't in the weapon project. If the child was female, then her original purpose would not matter._

" _I want her to have a choice. It is not logical, but I want it anyway."_

_Am'shel nods. "We will create a solution, then."_

_R'anee looks back at the observation window, her hands rubbing soothing circles against her stomach. The boy with solemn eyes has finished treating his wounds and is crawling into his bed, ignoring the bright lights shining down on him and the eyes of two Giidas adults observing his slumber._

_A thump against her hand draws her attention to the warm love filtering through the mind of the infant in her womb. There was nothing R'anee could do for the boy, but she could do something for her own child._

_And she would._


	20. Part 1: 20

**20**

_London, Terra, 2621_

Astra woke up very early on Monday morning; so early, in fact, that the sun wasn't even up. The cold London city, all grey, was painted in faint shades of yellow, blue, and orange as the sun slowly rose behind the clouds. It was very disorienting – she felt completely rested, and yet, at the same time, felt like she should go back to sleep since the sky was dark. She even attempted to close her eyes but her body fought against her, namely her bladder, which was rioting and full. Astra takes the opportunity to use the sonic shower while she is in the vicinity, not fully realizing that it was actually _Monday_ , not Sunday as she had automatically assumed. It was only while she was replicating a new pair of light grey weighted pants that Astra realized the date and when she did, she stumbled back onto her gel-bed, eyes wide, mind searching.

She'd lost a day. An entire day. More than 24 hours, actually, if she did the math, which she did. She went to sleep at some point Saturday night and woke up very early on Monday. As she searches her memory, she struggles to remember what exactly happened after she got off the hover-bus on Saturday; certainly, she got off at the correct stop since she'd obviously made it to bed. It was the steps between the hover-bus and her dorm room that were missing; and, with a start, Astra realizes that she woke up dressed in the clothes the Lieutenant Commander had replicated here in Cairo. Now, wrapped up in a thin robe, the feeling of disorientation rises to new levels.

Frustrated with her lack of recall, Astra lays down on the bed, searching her memory until her head physically hurts – the most she can recall is a bloody nose and stumbling around in the courtyard outside. The bloody nose in itself was rather disturbing – had she learned a new language without knowing it? To answer that question, Astra flips through the mental catalog of languages she had stored up in her brain, not coming across any that felt _new_. What had happened to her? Why was her mind so fuzzy?

Eventually, Astra gives up on recalling the events that led to her entire day of sleeping – the sun had finally climbed up high enough in the London sky to create pinkish-orange shadows on the frigid buildings and her stomach was grumbling loudly. She was certain that if she meditated later on in the afternoon, she would be able to recall the missing parts of her memory – but she didn't have time to do that now.

Astra quickly returns to her morning routine, Replicating a large protein-packed breakfast that her stomach had grown accustomed to, and eating her food while her clothing was created. She dresses in the weighted pants, which hang from her hips, and a snug black shirt with thin straps over a simple black chest protector; the chest protector was much shorter than she was used to, and instead of armoring her from the top of her chest to her hips, this particular style left her ribs unprotected. She'd taken to wearing this style because it allowed freer movement and Ja'asper was particular about her body being able to react on instinct instead of being hindered by what he called _"weird female clothing habits that don't belong in my gym"_. Astra had to concede that he was correct – she discovered that without wearing her usual style of chest protector, she could breathe better, run faster, move more efficiently, even if she did feel rather _exposed_ by the new style, which forced her to wear the protector beneath clothing rather than on top of it. She tightly laces the thin boots Ja'asper had gotten her to wear, which were black and snug, as light as if she wasn't wearing shoes, but with enough room to tuck the heavy material of her pants into the top. Her hair is fixed into a high tail, which is then braided and pinned to the top of her head to keep it out of the way; she again laments that she should cut her hair, especially since it seemed to get in the way more often than not. She only kept the current style she had in memory of Nanini, who had her hair long until the day she died – though, even Nanini would tell her she was being unreasonable to keep it long, given her daily activities.

After finishing dressing, Astra incinerates her food containers, hooks on her heavy dove-grey cloak to combat the flurries of snow that were just now falling on the campus, and checks the time on her pocket-com; she's running early. That's good, then. Given the time, she isn't surprised to find both of her roommates puttering around the dorm living room and she takes the opportunity to ask the question that had begun to itch her brain as she ate. "Did anyone hear me come in on Saturday?"

"You are awake," Mari'Ahlice says unnecessarily with a bright smile, turning to shoot a knowing look at Rosy. "I believe I told you so."

Rosy waves Mari'Ahlice off. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Astra, are you okay? You slept an entire day – and I don't think that's normal for Terrans."

Astra leans against the wall next to her door, arms crossed over her chest beneath her cloak. Rosy is tinkering around with some engineering device that was foreign to Astra and Mari-Ahlice was sipping a bright pink Piarix drink while flipping through a holo-magazine. Her roommates were so normal, even for aliens.

"I feel fine," Astra answers after a moment.

"We checked in on you," Rosy says. "On Sunday, I mean. Didn't hear you come back in on Saturday. How late were you out on your date?"

Astra recalls the ordeal with the Head Supervisor and the pool cue. "It wasn't a date," she insists, head tilted to the side. "And I don't know when I came in on Saturday."

"That's odd. Were you drinking?"

"I'm underage," Astra points out. "So, no. Everything is just fuzzy though. I think I had another episode."

"Like when you learned Zaint?"

"Exactly. Except I'm sure that I didn't learn a language," Astra confesses. "I remember being on the hover-bus and then…everything is foggy."

"Were you alone?"

"Yes," Astra answers with certainty. "Totally alone. I know I got off the hover-bus by myself."

Rosy furrows her brows. "The Lieutenant Commander didn't walk you home?"

Astra shakes her head and Rosy exchanges a bewildered look with Mari'Ahlice. "What?"

"Nothing," Rosy says. "I just thought he would have walked you home."

"It wasn't a date. He didn't have any obligation to."

"Aside from the fact that you are an underage Cadet, you mean?"

"I agree with Rosy," Ahlice cuts in. "It does seem to be rather odd."

Astra frowns. She didn't say it, but the more she thought about her lapse in memory on Saturday night, the more a feeling of cold dread forms in the pit of her gut – especially since she couldn't remember dreaming at all. It was as if she simply blacked out, which in itself wasn't that out of character if she really did have an episode in reaction to learning a new language. But she was completely certain that there was no new syntax in her brain waiting to be used and she still felt a little foggy. She watches Rosy tinker with her gadget for a moment and then says abruptly, "The Lieutenant Engineer of the _Nova_ wants to talk to you, Rosy."

Rosy's head snaps up. "What?"

Astra shakes her head as she remembers meeting Angela, the memory filtering into the forefront of her mind with perfect clarity. "I met her on Saturday. I told her I had a roommate working on new warp technology and she was very interested. I passed on contact information."

Rosy's orange sunset eyes are wide, her full mouth popped open. "You're not kidding."

"I'm completely serious."

"I think I love you," Rosy breathes. "She wants to talk to _me_? Lieutenant Angela?"

Astra knew she didn't say Angela's name, so she gathered that the Lieutenant was rather important in the Engineering community. "She might even commission you on the _Nova_. She said she was looking for new crew members."

Rosy's smile is wide and genuine. " _Thank you so much_ ," she says in a rush, her Standard replaced by Zaint.

"It's not a big deal," Astra says.

"It's a huge deal!"

"Rosy is correct," Ahlice says breezily. "This is the life-changing opportunity she has been waiting for."

Astra shoots Mari'Ahlice a confused glance. "Did you know?"

"I know many things. For example, you are about to be tardy."

As if on cue, Astra's pocket-com chimes its usual alarm, prompting her to head to the gym. She bids her roommates goodbye and rushes out the door, her confusion about Saturday and her missing Sunday all but forgotten.

She reaches the gym in record time, ignoring the leers of a few Cadets as she removes her cloak and falls into a series of stretches as she waits for Ja'asper to appear. It was odd for him to be late, but when he shows up with Sergeant Dmitri, she understands why and kicks herself for forgetting how important this day is. As a technical third-year student, she was subject to routine inspections of her training progress before she could move onto simulation and specialty training; her last benchmark had been three weeks ago and she had passed easily, but since that time, Ja'asper had pushed her in the Me'atal fighting style. She suspected he was determined to make sure she could take care of herself because Ja'asper wasn't blind to the looks Astra received from the Cadets and he had taken on a big brother persona. Astra relished in his pushy, difficult training, not only because it was a challenge to herself, but also because she never wanted to be in a position where she couldn't protect herself – not after Tokyo, which was an incident she truly did not want to think of ever again.

Sergeant Dmitri is in his usual jovial mood as he greets her with a clap on the back, like she was one of the male Cadets. Astra grins at the show of equality. "Morning, Cadet!"

"Good morning, Sir."

"Lovely day for a fight, isn't it, Ja'asper?"

Ja'asper quirks a silver-metal brow. "Any day is a good day."

"I like the way you think," Sergeant Dmitri laughs, turning smile onto Astra. "Ready to show those boys who runs the show?"

Astra nods, stretching her arm over her chest to loosen her shoulders. "Ready when you are, Sir."

"That's what I like to hear. I see Ja'asper's got you in those horrible weighted Me'atal pants."

"They're not horrible," Ja'asper protests. "Just because you can't wear them-"

"I _won't_ wear them," Dmitri corrects with a grin. "I could if I wanted to."

"Of course you could, Sir," Ja'asper says with a sarcastic edge.

"I like the pants," Astra cuts in. "They're a challenge."

Sergeant Dmitri laughs. "You know, Cadet, when they put you in my class, I wasn't so sure at first," he confesses. "You're a little thing, all willowy and delicate. I didn't think you could handle it. Most female Cadets can't keep up and stick to basic training. But you've surprised me. I'm sure we'll see great things from you."

Astra tilts her chin up, a determined glint entering her suddenly vibrant light blue eyes. "I won't let you down," she says, speaking to both Ja'asper and the Sergeant. This inspection of her abilities was about more than her; Ja'asper's future career and teaching qualifications also rode on her shoulders, especially since she was Ja'asper's first true pupil. Her success was also a matter for the Sergeant, who had taken a chance on her abilities when he agreed to put her in full-time physical training.

Astra had a lot to prove; fortunately for her, she operated best when she was proving her worth.

Sergeant Dmitri turns away from her and Ja'asper and speaks to the male Cadets, a handful of three, that were under his tutelage. While he speaks, Ja'asper turns to her and expertly stretches out her fingers, wrapping them in reinforced black tape to protect her knuckles. "Today is the day you prove to me that you belong at the Academy," he announces. "This is the final physical inspection for you third-years before we start training you for simulations and specialties. I want to see perfection. More than that, I want to see drive and heart and improvising. Do not hesitate. I don't want you killin' each other, but it should get pretty close. You'll be broken up into two groups – the winners fight each other. Understood?"

"Sir, yes, Sir."

Ja'asper finishes with her hands, tapping her knuckles. "Disable as quickly as possible. I know it would be more fun to play with it a little bit, but you don't need to show off, okay? These guys are big. Work against their weight."

"I know."

"But don't take cheap shots, either. I didn't teach you to go for the groin unless absolutely necessary."

"I know," she repeats, raising her brows at him. "I've got this."

"These guys aren't trained in Me'atal fighting, so you've got an advantage. Use it."

"Ja'asper, are you worried?"

He sighs, pushing his hair off his forehead. "To be honest? Yeah, a little. You've never had to fight someone as big as them," he says, waving to the three beefy Cadets. Astra nods in agreement. "I know that dark-haired one, Felix. He's ruthless."

"You're ruthless too," she reminds him, recalling the harsh lessons he taught her in the beginning. She walked away with bruises and a limp until she learned how to dodge; Ja'asper believed in learning lessons the hard way.

"I am," he agrees. "When I need to be. I've been hard on you, but it's nothing compared to the Me'atal Military training I went through. And Felix is dangerous. He gouged a guy's eye last year."

Astra frowns, a fission of fear creeping down her spine. "Why is he still at the Academy?"

Ja'asper shakes his head. "It wasn't on Academy grounds. He was suspended for it, but mostly because he was in uniform at the time."

Astra nods. "So, head down?"

"That's right. Keep your arms up, protect your face. _He_ will go for the cheap shots."

"I understand. I'll be okay."

Ja'asper scoffs. "I know. I trained you."

"So arrogant."

He shrugs and lightly thumps the side of her head with his knuckles. "Keep your head in the fight, okay?"

"I know."

Astra's first fight is against a Cadet named Larry – she judges him to be a bit dopey, predicting that his fighting style will be more force than cunning. For him, she keeps her body language open and unpredictable, her feet easily sliding over the rubbery floor, her lithe frame easily dodging his fists. He's slower than she assumed and she uses that to her advantage. Knowing that his musculature would protect him from too much pain and understanding that his larger body would be harder to flip, Astra resorts to simply knocking him out with a precise blow to the back of his head. She isn't even breathing hard when she finishes her fight with him in less than a minute. Sergeant Dmitri grins widely as she sits on the floor beside Ja'asper, continuing her stretches to keep her muscles warm, her eyes on Felix's fight.

Ja'asper was right – Felix is dangerous. He reminds her of a cat wanting to play with his food before eating it; his style is unpredictable and brash, calculating. He takes his time and repeatedly goes for cheap shots; Astra exchanges a look with Ja'asper, her brows furrowed. That cold feeling of dread that she felt in her gut earlier had met up with the fission of fear racing down her spine. She wouldn't admit it, but she was rather nervous.

In an effort to distract herself from her impending fight, Astra tries to think about her missing Sunday, sinking into a light meditative state.

It's as if the floodgates are opened. She remembers the dream she had – the dream that wasn't really a dream.

R'anee's memories.

 _Her mother's memories_.

Her eyes snap open as Ja'asper shakes her shoulder.

"You ready?"

Astra's thoughts are so distracted – how did she have memories of her mother's? More than anything, Astra wanted to sink back into her mediation and rehash what she had uncovered in sleep.

But it wasn't the right time.

"Yeah," she answers shakily, standing. "I'm alright. Who won?"

Ja'asper stares at her for a long moment. "Felix."

"Great."

"Are you okay?"

"Just peachy," she answers, trying to force her thoughts onto the present and her upcoming fight. She couldn't afford to be distracted, not with the way Felix liked to play. Her eyes rove over to Felix's prior opponent and a gasp leaves her lips – she didn't know that Terrans could bruise so fast. "Oh, Gods."

"Don't think about him," Ja'asper says quickly. "Keep your mind on knocking him out as soon as possible."

"Why didn't the Sergeant do anything?"

"Dmitri likes a good fight," Ja'asper answers. "And, by regulation, he can't interfere with how a Cadet fights. He has to see the preferred style so that he can pick the right placement after graduation."

"And where would Felix be placed?"

"Probably in interrogation."

Astra's stomach turns, her mind pulling in several directions – her fear, her dream, the injured Cadet with the blackened eyes and bleeding face. "Ja'asper…"

"He doesn't know the Me'atal style," he says. "You have that advantage. You can do this, Astra."

Sergeant Dmitri calls both Astra and Felix to the center of the room and Astra walks with shaky confidence. Up close, Felix was much bigger than he appeared and his grin was decidedly sadistic – and leering, just like the Head Supervisor. She wondered how this fight would go; Felix liked to _play_ and Astra liked to finish quickly with the least injuries possible. With half her mind busy recalling the details of her dream, Astra is almost certain that this fight isn't going to end well.

It starts out pretty even. Felix likes to rush his opponents so he makes the first move, which Astra easily dodges; like Larry, Felix uses force. Unlike Larry, however, Felix has speed despite the sheer size of his body – Astra is only faster by a few seconds, which hardly gives her any time to push any offensive skills of her own because she's so busy dodging his fists. In a situation like this, Ja'asper had taught Astra that she would have to simply take a hit to get her own in, and so she prepared for that, trying to get in a good enough position so that her shorter arm span could have access to the weak points in Felix's body – his elbows, neck, shoulders. She notices that, unlike her, he didn't like to use his legs and feet. If she could just disable one of his arms for a second, she might have a chance.

Astra sees her opening and braces herself, Felix's fist connecting with her ribs painfully. She breathes through the pain and jabs his elbow several times with her knuckles before bouncing back into a crouch and swinging a low kick to the side of his knee, which _pops_. She clutches her ribs, keeping her body low, and bites her lip – she's almost certain two ribs are cracked, but it was worth it because Felix's center of gravity is thrown off. Hopefully, that would give her enough time.

Her hope dissipates, however, when she catches sight of Felix's expression – seething, violent anger. He wasn't going to accept defeat easily. Bracing herself again, Astra rushes him, using her speed and agility to her advantage as much as she is able, throwing out the most debilitating Me'atal moves she knows. For a moment, she feels like she is winning – until one of Felix's hands grabs her bicep and flips her body, slamming her down on the rubbery floor. Her head cracks against the ground and her shoulder feels out of place.

Flashes of R'anee's memories breeze through her mind.

Astra blinks through the pain, rolling, just barely missing Felix's fist, which slams against the floor right where her head had been a moment earlier.

Her shoulder is out of commission and, on the other side of her body, her ribs limit her movement. The room is spinning. Astra is going to lose.

For a second, her eyes dart to Ja'asper. His stoic face is clenched in anger. Even Sergeant Dmitri looks worried – and she knows why. It's because she's female, not because of Felix.

Astra's fear suddenly disappears and, in a flash, a feeling of respect forms for her opponent – he wasn't holding back because she was female. He was treating her like an equal. She had to respect that.

Blocking out the pain, Astra pops her shoulder back into place, ignoring the sickening pop and the rolling of her stomach. Her body sinks into a low crouch as her vision darkens, blacking out for a moment from the pain in her body – three ribs feel cracked now. She waits Felix out and, when he rushes her again, she ducks beneath his fist, the blow harsh between her shoulder blades, right on her spine, as her own final blow connects with the side of his neck, right where hidden bundles of nerves are. Felix's fist drops away, along with his body.

She knocked him out – and paid the price with her own body.

Astra drops to her knees, panting, her upper back radiating pain through her body; Felix had managed to hit the nerves on her spine.

Her vision darkens and her eyes close.

"Get her to the infirmary," Sergeant Dmitri says with urgency. "He got her spine on that last blow."

"Shit," Ja'asper curses, rushing over to Astra and easily lifting her into his arms, careful of her back. He'd been afraid something like this would happen – the girl was too reckless. But she had beaten Felix, which was something that not many people could say, excluding him, of course.

Ja'asper ignores the questioning looks of other Cadets as he rushes out of the gym and into the turbolift. Astra had performed admirably but she had obviously been distracted by something – he would have to talk to her about _focusing_ again-

"What is wrong with her?" a low voice demands.

Ja'asper looks to the side; Lieutenant Commander Khai is staring at Astra blankly, a red tinge in his eyes. He doesn't stop walking, passing by the superior officer without pause. "She got hurt during the combat inspection."

Ja'asper's Me'atal hearing picks up the low growl the Lieutenant Commander emits and his eyes widen marginally. He looks down at Astra's unconscious face for a second, wondering _why_ the Lieutenant Commander would express such…concern for a mere Cadet. He'd only heard about their meditation sessions once from Astra and she hadn't mooned over it – yet, could it be possible…. _No. Astra would never…and the Lieutenant Commander is Giidas. I don't think they even have emotions_.

"Where are you taking her?" the Lieutenant Commander demands, following Ja'asper.

"Infirmary."

The Lieutenant Commander opens the doors to the infirmary when Ja'asper is close – and Ja'asper doesn't miss the way the Lieutenant Commander's eyes are riveted on Astra's face. He suppresses a smirk and wonders if Astra is aware of this attraction.

Nurse Esmeralda gasps from behind the reception desk and immediately pages Doctor Carl before rushing over with a hover-gurney.

"Her spine," Ja'asper informs her, ignoring the low rumbling growl from the Lieutenant Commander.

"We can fix that," Nurse Esmeralda promises as Doctor Carl hurries by into an examination room.

To everyone's shock, the Lieutenant Commander's hand lands on Doctor Carl's shoulder, halting him immediately. With a red tinge in his eyes, Khai growls, "You _will_ give her the best care."

Doctor Carl taps his feet nervously, counting to three in his mind to calm his suddenly racing heart. "Yes, Sir."

***N*O*V*A***

_Astra knew, with absolute certainty, that she wasn't dreaming – it was another of R'anee's memories. She recalled the last one very quickly and determined that this particular memory was after her birth._

_R'anee is looking down at the newly born baby in her arms; Astra instantly recognizes the pattern of freckles across the infant's nose. Her own nose. Baby Astra is sleeping soundly, skin as lily-white as ever, flushed a baby pink with a purple tinge across her cheeks. R'anee strokes a finger down the infant's cheek._

" _Mother? May I please hold her?" a solemn voice asks._

_R'anee's gaze transfers to her son – Nah'huel, just turned four years old, with hair the same dark chocolate shade as her own. "Of course, darling. Carefully," R'anee reminds him gently, passing Astra over to her half-sibling._

" _I understand, Mother," he says softly, adjusting his small arms and studying his half-sister carefully. "What will you call her, Mother?"_

" _Izabela."_

_Nah'huel's lips twitch into a faint smile – quite the expression for a Giidas. "A very logical choice, Mother."_

_R'anee smoothes down Nah'huel's errant hair and relaxes onto the bed, tired for labor. "She is quite beautiful," she agrees softly._

_Nah'huel is quiet for a moment. "You love her," he states certainly, drawing his gaze to his mother, face open and honest with youth, emotions of anxiety painted across his brow. "But she is not yours to keep."_

_R'anee wipes away a translucent lilac tear. "I know, darling."_

" _You and Father have a plan," he tells her solemnly._

" _We do."_

_Nah'huel looks down at his half-sister again – the child that was not his Father's, but that had earned his Father's love – the child that was only half his Mother's, but who had earned her complete devotion – the child that had commanded his own affection. Izabela opens her eyes, the color of her iris such a light grey, wispy, almost silver, and reaches for his face, communicating in the only way that Giidas babies could – telepathically. The infant Izabela communicates hunger and curiosity to him. "I am your brother," Nah'huel answers her softly, touching a finger to her forehead and projecting his own affection for her. "Mother, she is hungry," he says, passing Izabela back to R'anee._

_Astra feels a small smile bloom on R'anee's face as her arms cradle baby Izabela. "Yes. I understand that Terran infants eat much of the time. You are a wonderful brother, Nah'huel."_

" _Thank you, Mother. Father will be home soon. Is there anything I can do to assist in your plan?"_

_R'anee nods. "Darling, write a small note for me."_

" _What should it say?"_

_R'anee stroke's Izabela's cheek again. "Simply her name."_


	21. Part 1: 21

**21**

_London, Terra, 2621_

Lieutenant Commander Khai could only identify his _mood_ as vexed, which in itself was vexing, especially when he logically considered his race and their cultural emotional detachment and the preferred absence of a mood. Yet, he appeared to have no control over his emotions or the physical manifestations of this emotion – which led him to become more vexed.

And rather confused; had he not completed the emotional reboot? He feels his lips pull into an infinitesimal frown as his eidetic memory recalls each cataloged moment of his deep meditation when he arrived at his assigned quarters the night before; he had not slept but had sunk into meditation so deep that he disrupted his Sunday routine and seeped into his Monday routine. He had essentially purged his emotions in his attempt to regain homeostasis.

It had not worked. Rather, in the case of the Cadet, it did not seem to _matter_. He paused in his deliberations, examining his previous thoughts. He referred to her as _the Cadet_ , though this was illogical because the Federation Academy had over 500 Cadets at the current count - there was nothing distinctive about the Cadet that should influence his thoughts to consider _only her_ as the face behind the label he had bestowed upon her.

With a sigh that could only be described as _frustrated_ , Khai steeples his fingers, leaning his elbows on his blank desk, and retraces his actions from the morning, exactly 8.21 minutes ago. After rousing from his deep meditation and determining that his schedule was off by .8 seconds, Khai had quickly used the sonic shower and facilities, dressed in his charcoal instructor uniform, and boarded a hover-bus to campus, where he planned to review his lesson plans for the week as he did every Monday. All of this was normal, save for the time-lapse, which was attributed to the depth of his meditation, which was an _odd_ experience to say the least. Upon arriving on campus, he had taken the most direct route to the teaching building when he had caught the faint smell of familiar blood. He was ashamed to recall his own heart tightening the moment he ascertained _who_ the blood belonged to – the Cadet, carried in the arms of a Me'atal. It was at this point that Khai had to restrain his body from lunging at the Me'atal Cadet and taking _his_ Cadet from the other male; instead, he had forced himself to inquire as to her condition and determined that, based on her clothing, she was injured during a physical assessment. He had followed and then eventually bypassed the Me'atal Cadet to the infirmary, where he uncharacteristically and forcefully demanded the Cadet get the best care – illogical, given the fact that all medical staff opted to give all patients the best care available.

Khai's eyes are unfocused as he recalls his own arrival to his office, where he had been without a task for exactly .79 minutes as his thoughts were distracted by the condition of the Cadet.

He sits back and re-examines his actions, his show of emotions, his lost time, his _need_ to purge his emotions in the first place – and the fact that one sighting of the Cadet had ruined over 37 hours of deep meditation, thus returning the feelings that he sought to purge with logic.

Khai was emotionally compromised by the Cadet.

Undoubtedly.

The realization is not sudden or surprising – rather, it is a logical conclusion that makes Khai frown, an exact expression that involved a .3-centimeter downturn of his lips.

For a moment, he thought to determined what it was about the Cadet that caused this shameful compromise. Certainly, she was beautiful in a dangerous, exotic way, with serious, slightly slanted eyes, lily-white skin, and the scent of tea and honey. And her intelligence, her understanding of languages and thereby culture, was truly impressive given the fact that her knowledge of Xenolinguistics surpassed even his own. He silently admitted to finding her appealing in a sexual way and he found her personality fascinating.

Yet, those factors simply were _not_ enough for an emotional compromise to manifest. She was not Giidas. And he was superior to Giidas, the urge to mate seemingly non-existent until now.

After a very long moment in which his mind revolted against his logical progression of thought, Khai finally came to two conclusions that explained his emotional compromise, the failure of his purged emotions, and the reason as to why only _she_ became "the Cadet".

First, Khai's genetics were obviously imperfect – a failure to the Giidas Science Institute, as his mating drive was very much intact.

Second, the primal aspect of his Giidas heritage had identified the Cadet as a potential mate, to which Khai could admit she would be more than suitable as a life partner, even with the disadvantage of her own DNA that lacked any Giidas traits and would therefore make offspring unlikely.

Khai sat back in his chair, expression blank. His conclusions were logical. The Cadet – Astra – was the reason behind his shaking control and had been since that day in Cairo in late autumn when he had tackled her on the sand dunes. Satisfied that, for the moment, his lapse in control over his own mind had been solved, Khai moves on to a considerably more worrisome issue; his odd meditation.

Usually, while meditating, Khai focused on his brainwaves to soothe and build walls around them in order to control the emotions he experienced. Khai's meditation was _not_ similar to other Giidas; unlike him, the rest of the Giidas population very literally relived the more emotional moments of their day and purged the emotions out of their interactions. Khai's genetics determined that his own meditation process was much more logical and efficient.

Yet, during his emotional reset, Khai's meditation did not focus on his own brainwaves. In fact, the deep meditation of 37 hours barely involved Khai at all; instead of his brainwaves or even his own memories and emotions, Khai inexplicably experienced parts of the Cadet's life. He must have touched her when his mind was rebooting, he decides. The fact that a mere touch of the Cadet's skin transferred such vivid emotions and memories was fascinating. Even now, he could easily recall her memories –

_The Cadet easily reads the kanji on the storefront, the blue neon holo-letters beckoning her to try some of the local Japanese cuisines, but she knows that she has no money. The sky has grown darker since her arrival; she estimates the time to be near seven in the evening and, with a growling stomach, deduces that she doesn't have enough time to stop and perform on her li'lute to earn credits or coins. Her reflection in the reinforced glass window indicates her age is near fourteen or fifteen and, while she looks healthy, her cheeks are gaunt and her silver wisp eyes are cautious. She isn't comfortable in her environment yet. Astra turns away from the storefront and scans her surroundings quickly – too busy around here for sleeping but not lively enough for performing. She considers asking the locals where a suitable location might be but hesitates; she's seen the looks she's gotten so far, the untrusting eyes, as if she were about to swindle them all. Astra drifts through the streets, seeking the Tokyo nightlife, knowing that there, at least, some of the shadier people might know where gypsies stay during the nights. She thought of China and the hostel-like places on the edge of Beijing; she hoped to find a similar place in Tokyo._

_Though she wouldn't admit it to anyone, Astra was tired of sleeping on benches in parks, tired of being hungry, tired of watching her back every second of every day, and especially tired of mothers pulling their children away and telling them not to stare at "that filthy gypsy". But this was the only life she had ever known and her ability to see the world – any world – more than made up for the realities of her existence._

_By the time Astra manages to stumble into the nightlife of Tokyo, the sun has set against the backdrop of traditional Shinto shrines and the tall towers of Federation buildings. Her dull, heavy handmade leather cloak blends her into the shadows, the hood hiding her face; she learned long ago to walk like a male and adopted that stance now, hoping her slightly shorter height wouldn't be an issue in her disguise. She watches the people of all races, dressed in reflective silver clothing and black-light absorbing glitter, funnel into clubs and restaurants, her eyes roving her surroundings looking for someone who isn't joining in the everyday festivities. There. A similar hooded figure – no cloak, but a hood and that was good enough for Astra's tired mind and hungry body. She approaches carefully, glued to the shadows, and waits until the figure is alone, identifying the hooded character as a man by his posture._

_When she speaks, she pitches her voice lower and adopts an accent she picked up in the Southern United States – Nanini had grilled these practices into Astra's mind in an attempt to protect the girl from everything, including being tracked by her natural flawless accent. It was bad enough she was gypsy. "I'm new 'round here. Have any idea where the outposts are?"_

_Immediately, Astra curses internally – she still sounded too feminine and by the sudden change in the man's body language, he figured it out, too. She takes a step back and winces when his arm closes around her wrist._ Run, run, _her mind whispers uselessly. She can't. She's caught._

_The man flips down his hood, exposing strong Asian features. She would have considered him handsome if not for the sneer on his face and the fact that he reaches forward, flicking her own hood down. "Ah, a little gypsy girl, looking for a place to stay, hmm?"_

_Astra tries to jerk her arm back and forces the wobble out of her throat. "Le'mme go," she demands, thankfully holding onto the thick accent._

_The man leers at her and with his other hand, reaches forward and pulls her cloak apart, peering at her body appreciatively, catching sight of the case strapped across her chest. "You're a pretty little creature, Gypsy. What are you doing with a li'lute?"_

_Astra feels wild – like a caged animal. What is she supposed to do? What can she do? Among the lessons that Nanini had seared into her very soul, the lesson of_ always look for a way out _was the most important. Astra was resourceful. She would get out of this. She had to._

 _So she acts and stops struggling; in fact, she steps forward, schooling her features into an expression that she hopes shows interest. Holding onto the southern accent, she offers a coy smile, praying that it doesn't look like a grimace. "I play. I could…._ play _for you," she says with a pointed glance down below the man's belt._

_When his leer turns into a smile, Astra wants to vomit._

" _I'll make you a deal, Gypsy. You let me have that wonderful little body of yours for a night and I'll pay you 500 credits and tell you where those filthy outposts are. I'll even let you sleep in my bed for a night. What do you say?"_

_Astra struggles to keep the coy expression on her face – she was absolutely disgusted and completely embarrassed. Outraged, too. People too often assumed that gypsies were willing to do anything for money, including whoring themselves out. Astra was a virgin and she planned to stay that way, but she could recognize an opportunity when she saw one. So she agrees with a flutter of her eyes and allows herself to be dragged down the street and towards a fine building at the end of the block. She doesn't struggle when the man pulls her into the building by her wrist or when he disengages the lock on his door._

_She turns her head away when he leans in for an eager kiss. "Wait a sec'," she says breathlessly. "I really do play the li'lute."_

" _I'm sure you do, baby," he says with a leer. "But I'd like you to play something else-"_

_She stares at him with large, wide eyes. "Please? Won't you let me…entertain you?"_

_The man pulls back and adopts a smile, releasing her wrist. He steps back, seating himself in a square chair, his legs spread and his hands behind his head. "Go ahead."_

_Astra's lips form a dangerous smile as she takes the li'lute out of the case and brings it to her lips. As beautiful as the li'lute was, it was a deadly instrument – rather, it could be, if the player was skilled enough. The fact of the matter is that most people who play the li'lute don't have the skill required for the particular move she was about to make and they didn't have any idea that the li'lute could be a weapon as well as an instrument. This skill was one that Astra herself had discovered in practice and had only needed to use once before. Pressing her fingers against the proper spiraling holes, Astra begins playing, luring his conscious into a safe place before forcefully and quite decisively playing a shrill, high-pitched note that shattered the illusion – and his mind along with it. The note lashed out, angry and charged, painful, and the man's head lolls back, ears bleeding._

_Hands shaking, Astra puts the li'lute away quickly. She thinks she might have killed him – but maybe she didn't. She wasn't sure of the exact repercussions of the attack from the li'lute, but she knew it couldn't be good; if anything, she most likely damaged his mind beyond repair. She rushes out of the room, the building, and the area of Tokyo, running until her vision turns back and her stomach is clawing from hunger._

Khai comes out of the memory quite disturbed, though what he had just relived was not as vivid as the experience through meditation. He had easily witnessed a handful of other painful memories during what was supposed to be his emotional purge – the Cadet's life before the Federation Academy was very dark indeed. He found it completely illogical that there was such discrimination against gypsies in such an advanced society but every culture needed a scapegoat.

He tilts his head back, considering the obvious memory transfer. He can't imagine that he would willingly or accidentally touch the Cadet when his mind was rebooting – not for lack of desire, but because his body was on autopilot during that time and he simply would not have initiated the contact. The Cadet, then, must have been the one to touch him – most likely a brush to the bare skin of his hand, an unwitting transfer.

Odd, though, that the transfer itself was so strong, so vivid. The amount of information he gained from what he assumes was a simple touch seemed a bit excessive, especially since Terrans were psi-null and not capable of transferring memories or emotions through touch.

The Cadet, however, obviously _had_ transferred a great amount of information.

Khai sits up abruptly.

How had she done that?

Why were the memories so _vivid_?

His steel-toned eyes harden as he arrives at the only logical conclusion; a bond had been made.

His first inclination is to deny the existence of the bond – certainly he would _know_ if he had accidentally created a mental bond to a Terran Cadet, even if his mind had been shutting down and rebooting at the time.

However, he could not deny the symptoms; nor could he deny the existence of a fledgling bond, which he found upon further examination. His mind and the Cadet's mind were linked together by a delicate silver chain, which was strong for a bond that was so new; it relayed shimmering responses back to Khai when he tested the chain, tugging slightly with mental finesse to seek her location, which was still in the infirmary.

The fledgling bond, however, was not a full bond – nor was it a First Bond, a joining between prospective mates. The bond itself, regardless of its strength, was rather rudimentary in design and seemed to be focused on the transference of memories. Inspecting the silver chain in detail, he found that, specifically, only the Cadet transferred memories to him.

Bonds, however, were designed to work two ways, an even exchange. The Cadet had unconsciously transmitted the memories that defined her personality and her actions – but what had she gotten in return? Khai's side of the bond showed that he had sent no memories of his own in return, yet his side of the bond did show that he had sent _something_ through the bond. Khai examined the list of logical possibilities, examining the links of their bond chain in-depth as he attempted to discover what he had transferred back to the Cadet; if Khai believed in luck, he would deem it fortunate that the Cadet was unconscious at the time of his probing, for he surely would have given the bond away had she been awake and able to feel the tugging on her mindscape.

After finding no answers in the logical possibilities, Khai sighs. If he could not find an answer in logical probabilities, then he would have to resort to the illogical plausibility.

He could sense that part of the Cadet's mind was locked up, in a sense – perhaps blocked off would be a better descriptor. The work wall that separated her conscious mind from her unconscious mind was very well made, almost as if it was made by a Giidas healer or, at the very least, someone with excellent psi skills. From the outline of her mindscape – of which he only found vague images of celestial bodies – Khai reasoned that in exchange for her memories, his own mind must have unlocked the walls of her memory banks, which seeped with rawness as if she had recently discovered new memories that had previously hidden.

It is this thought – this _exchange_ – that makes Khai stand up and almost compulsorily Replicate tea for himself, finding the inexplicable urge to busy his hands for no other reason than to _do_ something.

Not only were fledgling bonds of this type nearly unheard of among the Giidas race, but the strength of the bond was also startling in its intensity.

For a moment, he puzzles over the implications, the hot mug in his hand soothing the frays of sensitive psi-nerves in his hands.

But then he recalls the first time he had seen her hooded figure.

Shan'hal'lak.

 _The Engulfment_.

He had shunned the idea, pressing the implications of his experience to the farthest reaches of his mind, so far, so hidden that he had nearly forgotten – but it had happened the moment he saw her flushed lily skin, petal-soft lips, the silver wisp eyes painted in lilac. Khai had previously deemed the very notion of The Engulfment as something that was not genetically possible – or compatible – for himself – or the Terran Cadet.

Shan'hal'lak – The Engulfment – _love at first sight_.

Foolishly, illogically, he had pushed shan'hal'lak away and now he could only postulate that his own refusal to acknowledge The Engulfment had caused the fledgling bond between them to be so incredibly strong so quickly.

He sets the mug of tea on his desk with a soft _thunk_ , mind moving a hundred miles a minute. Had he somehow _harmed_ the Cadet in not acknowledging shan'hal'lak? Most certainly, he determined that his involvement with opening up locked memories most likely lead to her injury that she sustained earlier in the day. For that, he was to blame, as well.

Footsteps sound down the corridor, his sensitive hearing picking up the _tap_ , the distinctive rhythm that he had unconsciously memorized long ago. Automatically, his posture corrects itself, shoulders straightening, hands falling to clasp behind his back as he waits patiently for his door to slide open.

The Cadet steps through and Khai's blood roars to the surface, brought out by the knowledge of the bond they shared – the most primal part of his brain, the section that was supposed to be rendered null by superior genetics, recognized the existence of shan'hal'lak and beat against his control viciously. The inky black emotions that he had attempted to purge scorch past his mental barriers and Khai is forced to slow his metabolic functions, forced to strangle the growl building in his throat.

"Cadet," he greets stonily, teeth gritted together as he grapples for some semblance of control, his heart beating a stucco rhythm when silver eyes fringed with bright blue connect with his own.

"Lieutenant Commander," she says, stepping further into the room. "Could I talk to you for a moment?"


	22. Part 1: 21

**22**

_London, Terra, 2621_

Carl was anxious. Despite the compulsive tapping of his foot – that soothing _tap, tap, tap_ rhythm – his levels of anxiety were not evening out. He tried to count in threes, he tried holding his breath for six seconds, he repeated every letter of the alphabet nine times; and still, his anxiety did not wane.

"I haven't done anything wrong," he tells himself, grumbling like a small child as he stares at the holo-screen in front of him. He knows, on an ethical level, that he's lying to himself, which is probably one of the causes of his anxiety. Carl fidgets. "As a doctor, I have a medical requirement to send new data to the Database. It's the law of the Federation. I _had_ to," he says urgently as if rehearsing a speech. "No, no, that's not quite right. I need more feeling. How about….Federation law requires that I send any unknown data to the Intergalactic-"

"Carl?"

Doctor Carl jumps, spinning around in his chair to stare at Nurse Esmeralda with wide eyes. His face flushes. She looked very pretty today. "N-nurse," he stammers, standing, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his crisp white coat. "What brings you by?"

Nurse Esmeralda's lips twist into a sensual smile. "Your favorite patient is showing signs of consciousness."

It takes Carl a full ten seconds to remember that he actually did have a patient and that Nurse Esmeralda was not proposing a role-playing game. He blamed her shoes. Clearing his throat, Carl nods, willing the heat off his face and picks up his Pad. "Computer, pull Intergalactic results for patient _78892-A,_ " he tells the system, waiting for the information to load onto his screen. He exhales heavily when the information is listed, his foot tapping three times quickly. "Let's go see our patient."

The Cadet that Carl had treated before was not the same Cadet that he had recently treated. Essentially, she was the same girl – all pale skin, dark hair, tilted eyes, and freckles – but _vitally_ , she was different. Even unconscious, Carl got the feeling that she was stronger, wiser. Perhaps it was the fact that she lost a significant amount of weight that was replaced entirely by muscle tone; perhaps it was because the fullness of her cheeks had thinned out, making her appear more womanly; or perhaps it was her dark purple blood that Carl simply couldn't get out of his head.

Initially, he couldn't figure out what happened – how does a girl simply go from having bright red Terran blood to the deep plum blood of a Giidas? There weren't any dyes in her system. Despite the change in her appearance, she didn't look more alien. What's more, he had taken another opportunity to analyze her blood while the bone regenerator healed the hairline fracture in her spinal column – all of the enzymes were the exact quantity as before. He couldn't deduce any reason for the color change. That is until he scanned her brain again.

Patient _78892-A_ – Cadet Astra – had peculiar brain waves to begin with. They had been much too active before, and yet _now_ , while they maintained the same leaping spikes, they were not as rapid. _Controlled_. The brainwaves looked controlled. Carl could only imagine that this was the exact reason as to why her blood changed color – Astra had most likely accidentally tapped into her alien-like qualities and that must have manifested a change in her blood color.

It was the only theory he could come up with.

Nurse Esmeralda steps into the room first with a gentle smile; their timing had been perfect as Astra was blearily blinking at the blue-white lights that shined over her biobed. "How are you feeling?"

Astra looks at Nurse Esmeralda with furrowed brows. "I'm in the infirmary?"

"And patched up good as new. Right, Doctor?"

Carl nods, peering down at the Pad in his hands. "Right as rain."

Astra sits up, testing for any soreness in her body; finding none, she raises her brows at the nurse. "I can go then?"

Carl's foot taps on the floor three times.

Nurse Esmeralda hesitates.

"Actually," Carl says slowly, carefully. "I need to talk to you about something. Nurse, do you mind…?"

"Not at all, Doctor," she smiles, stepping out of the room and sliding the clear doors closed.

Astra is instantly on alert. The last thing she remembers is searing pain on her back and seeing Felix fall – and then she was meeting the ground herself. She felt fine, better than fine from the lack of soreness in her muscles. But the doctor looked serious, if not completely anxious, and his foot tapping on the floor was starting to grow on her nerves, though she deduced from his body language that it was a soothing gesture for himself. "Am I dying?"

"Not for at least a hundred years," Doctor Carl blurts out, his sharp eyes widening in horror.

Astra quirks a brow. "Terrans don't live past a hundred years," she tells him slowly. "I'm Terran. I've got about eighty years if I'm lucky."

Doctor Carl nods. "Yes. Well, that is what I wanted to talk to you about," he says, placing his Pad on the foot of her bed so that his hands are free to fidget. He doesn't make eye contact. "You see….you're not _completely_ Terran."

"I don't understand." That much was true, Astra decided – she _didn't_ understand. At all. Until this very moment, she had always assumed she was Terran. She certainly _looked_ Terran, right? She couldn't pick out any particularly alien features that she possessed – but, then again, most extraterrestrials looked Terran at first glance. Astra thinks of her li'lute, the instrument that typically only worked for psi-skilled people; she always had the thought in the back of her mind that it was rather odd that she, a psi-null Terran, was able to play it as well as she could. "If I'm not wholly Terran….then what am I?"

Doctor Carl shifts nervously, studying the baffled expression on Astra's face. This had been the very thing he had been dreading, the driving force behind the anxiety sitting heavily in his chest. _Explaining_. Carl never had been good at _explaining_ – diagnosing, treating, of course, but never explaining to his patients how or why something was not quite right with them. Typically, he had a nurse with him, preferably Nurse Esmeralda, to help his social ineptness, but this was news that he felt was best delivered in the most private setting possible, especially considering the slightly unethical way in which he had come across this information. His eyes shift away from the faint, hardly noticeable point of Astra's ear and settle onto a hovering chair, which he quickly settles into, Pad clutched between his fingers; the data is incomplete and he dreads relating that to the patient as well. He clears his throat. "It would seem that your genetic construction is in equal parts Terran and Giidas."

Astra's heart leaps to her throat. _Giidas._ Her mind works rapidly, flashing to her real name – Izabela, a name from the High Clans of Giidalan – and all of the cultural facts she knew about Giidas. Psi-skilled, long lives, pointed ears, purple blood…Like puzzle pieces fitting together, every subtle oddity that she found in herself and excused under the guise of being a gypsy suddenly made sense. Half-Giidas. "How is that even possible…?"

Doctor Carl's foot taps again on the floor, _tap-tap-tap_. "It would seem that, though Giidas have a higher chromosome count than Terrans, the DNA markers are similar enough in design to be compatible for hybrid creation, though I doubt anything could have been achieved without the use of fertility treatments and possibly medical intervention, such as artificial insemination-"

"Wait," Astra stops him suddenly, sitting up further on the biobed. "Hold on. How did you figure this out?"

Carl feels his face pale, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. _The one time I do something unethical – even just a little – and I feel like I'm going to puke._ Both of his feet begin tapping on the floor and he averts his eyes. "About nine weeks ago, you came to the infirmary with elevated brain activity, which leads to a swelling of the brain, elevated heart rate, and a capillary break in your nasal cavity. The symptoms were very odd and I took it upon myself to examine your blood for any illness or disorders. However, upon further inspection, I found that I couldn't read your blood cells at all – they weren't Terran and I'm not yet fully trained in xenobiology-"

"Doctor, what did you do?"

"I sent your blood to the Intergalactic Database for inspection," he tells her quickly, looking at the young girl with anxious eyes. "As a doctor, it's my duty to inform the Database of any irregularities in lab work in order to prevent the spread of potential infection or disease."

Astra stares at him for a moment. "Then why do you look like you're going to be sick, Doctor?"

He looks away and coughs. Women, in general, made him anxious – hell, _talking_ to people made him anxious. He'd never been good in social settings and _this_ wasn't easy. He thought that he wouldn't have made a good Catholic if he'd been born several hundred years ago. "Technically," he finally says in a weak voice. "I didn't do anything wrong….But I should have had you sign a release form before I sent your blood to the Database."

Astra scowls and her eyes, so silver, tinge light red, which Carl knew to be a Giidas trait and the most glaringly obvious one. She sighs heavily. "So you sent my blood off to some database that doctors use and found out that I'm supposedly some sort of _hybrid_ Terran-Giidas?"

"Essentially."

Her arms come up to cross over her chest. "Why did it take so long for this database to get back to you?"

Carl looks away again. "I've had the results for three weeks, actually."

She shakes her head. "Why are you only telling me now? What if I had needed to know something like this?"

Doctor Carl taps his feet again – _tap-tap-tap_ – and smoothes away an invisible speck of lint on his trousers. He clears his throat, though he doesn't feel the need to. "I'm…not very good with confrontation. I thought you would be mad," he tells her, ashamed of not sounding like a doctor. He's glad that Nurse Esmeralda is absent from the room.

"I'm not mad," Astra tells him with a sigh. "I just don't understand. I'm Terran. I always have been. This is so…random."

"Physiologically, you do display some Giidas traits," he says after a long moment, working to get over the sudden change in rolls. Doctors weren't supposed to be bumbling; and yet, he was, while his patient was taking the reins to lead the conversation. "Your ears, for example, are slightly pointed, though that could be passed off as a Terran trait. Giidas are very similar to Terrans, except for their psi-skills and purple blood and-"

"Do I have purple blood?" she interrupts, looking down at her hands, as if she could see the blood running through her veins. "I've always bled red."

Doctor Carl stands and flips the screen on his Pad, examining the enzymes in her blood. "You do have purple blood now. When I took that initial blood sample, it was red, dark, but Terran. Has something in your diet changed, perhaps, to account for this change?"

Astra shakes her head. "Nothing I can think of. My physical training regimen has changed a great deal and I've had to incorporate more protein into my diet. I've been eating a lot of Giidas and Twi'lek dishes, but I've always eaten those."

Doctor Carl frowns. " _Something_ has changed to make this particular change happen…."

The room is quiet for a moment as the Doctor silently mutters to himself, completely lost in thought, his blond brows furrowed. Astra feels the sudden inexplicable urge to _leave_ , to get out of the infirmary – she wants fresh air, needs to think about this, for she had no doubts that the Doctor's discovery was true, despite her own hesitance to believe it. She slips the bio-monitoring cuffs off her wrist, making the machine beep lowly; Doctor Carl's gaze snaps to her, eyes wide.

"I'd like to keep you for observation," he says weakly as she slips off the biobed, shoes touching down on the floor.

Astra stretches, testing her muscles again – she feels even better standing. "Have I been treated?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"And this whole hybrid thing doesn't really affect me much, does it? I mean, I've always been a hybrid, apparently, and I've gotten along just fine."

"That may be true, however-"

"Unless for some reason my newly purple blood is going to turn on me, I don't see why I have to stay," she tells him flatly, itching to leave. She'd never really been claustrophobic before, but it felt like the walls were closing in on her and she longed to feel the chilled London air on her skin. She looks at Doctor Carl with expectant eyes, taking another step towards the door.

Though he looks apprehensive, he finally nods. "I really would like to keep you for observation but you are healed of the injuries you came in with and I have no other reason for you to stay."

Astra offers him a small smile. "Great," she says, stepping up to the glass doors that slide open promptly, looking back at the slightly miffed doctor. "And thank you for letting me know about….you know. I suppose it's in my records now?"

Doctor Carl nods. "As per regulations."

She pauses on the threshold. "Should I be expecting officers kicking down my dorm door and spiriting me away?"

Doctor Carl cracks a smile at her teasing tone. "No, I don't think so. The update is an add-in on your medical chart and one would have to look for it."

Assured that she was safe, Astra's urge to flee lessened quite a bit. She supposed it was a natural reaction for her; she tended to run when she was scared and finding out that she's some hybrid was fraying her nerves. She nods to the kind nurse on her way out of the infirmary, immediately slinking around the corner and leaning against the smooth white wall of the building, her head tossed back so she could stare up at the dreary grey clouds.

 _A hybrid_. Giidas. Terran. Both. The little mysteries of her life – _why are my nails silverish, why can I play the li'lute, why did that note say Izabela, how can I function for days without food or water, why can I learn languages so fast_ – all made sense now. Or at least more sense than they had made before. Every oddity she had ever displayed was suddenly explained with one word; hybrid.

Far, in the distance beyond the grey clouds, clear on the other side of the city, Big Ben chimes exactly four times, announcing the hour.

"I need to talk to someone," she says softly. Immediately, her mind flashes to the only Giidas she ever spent time with, the Lieutenant Commander, and her body is moving in the direction of his office without her even deciding to find him. The urge to see the Lieutenant Commander was strong and Astra was a slave to it, feeling in her bones that it was the right thing to do, the right move to make. There were so many things about the Giidas culture that the Federation didn't know – if she had any questions, she wouldn't find the answers in a library. Lieutenant Commander Khai was the best source, the most reliable, and conveniently, his office hours coincided with the time of day, and she knew he would be sitting at his desk with a mug of tea right about now. She takes the stairs instead of the turbolift, unwilling to rile her stomach even more, and presses her hand against the identification screen outside his office door, waiting for entry.

Just as Astra had predicted, the Lieutenant Commander had a mug of steaming tea on his desk, though this did nothing to detract from the thick atmosphere. For a moment, she was stunned by the tension crackling through the room – his body was so tense, his steel-toned eyes guarded and dark, the expression on his face stony, jaw clenched tightly. "Cadet," he grits out, his voice low, deep, and gritty in a way that Astra had never heard before.

She grapples for context clues, wondering why he seemed so unchained as if struggling against some sort of control – or a war within his own mind. His painfully handsome face is sharp in the bright lights of the room and his eyes seem to grow darker by the second. "Lieutenant Commander," she says cautiously, stepping further into the room, waiting for the doors to close automatically behind her. "Could I talk to you for a moment?"

He nods stiffly, which Astra finds odd; she thought he had grown accustomed to her presence and couldn't figure out why he was behaving this way. It really wasn't like the Lieutenant Commander at all.

Shaking her head, she leans against the edge of his desk, averting her gaze. "I found something out about myself today and I'm not sure….I think maybe you could help me understand?"

"Is there an issue, Cadet?"

Astra shakes her head, hair slipping out of the bun at the nape of her neck and brushing against her cheek, thick fringe shadowing her eyes. "Not really," she says softly, looking out the window. "The doctor at the infirmary informed me that I am not Terran."

Khai's metabolic functions stutter and the inky black emotions pause. The room in silent, save for the Cadet's racing pulse. "You certainly appear Terran," he says after a long moment, his mind pulling up every instance in which he thought her appearance and behaviors to be abnormal for a Terran. Yes, _appeared_ Terran - that was the key, the answer to all of his frustration. Khai moves around the side of the desk, inspecting the Cadet in detail, picking out all of the slightly alien qualities she possessed. _Fascinating_.

"I'm not," she says, turning her solemn silver gaze to him. "I'm half Terran and half…Lieutenant Commander?"

The Lieutenant Commander had stepped around the desk, advancing on her personal space, his pupils dilating wide as he breathes deeply, a low sound building in his chest that makes Astra shiver. He stops a short foot away, his height and lanky build looming over her; she can't move, caught in his gaze. "What is the other half?" he demands shortly, leaning down and inhaling deeply – his eyes take on a far-away gaze, as if he is analyzing her scent.

Astra's pulse races, heat rising into her cheeks. She didn't understand what was happening, but she knew that the Lieutenant Commander was behaving very oddly. Almost primal. "Giidas," she answers finally, eyes wide, silver flashing purple with passion.

She isn't sure how it happens.

One moment, she is watching the Lieutenant Commander's eyes bathe dark violet, and the next his lips are hot on hers, dry, soft, demanding, his strong arms closing around her body, pressing their chests together. She hears a low growl, her eyes fluttering closed as Khai pulls her closer, tilting his head to gain better access to her parting lips, his hand cradling her jaw, almost gentle despite the force of the kiss. His tongue seeks hers, hot and slick, sliding against each other, exchanging tastes – he is spicy like the tea he just drink, she is sweet like honey.

Astra breaks away, shaking her head, panting for breath only to lose it the next moment as his mouth moves to a spot below her jaw, mouthing at the side of her neck. His hands splayed across her back, pressing her closer though he has to bend down to reach the juncture of her exposed shoulder. If she had been wearing a cloak, he wouldn't have been able to find that skin – and she's so thankful that he can as his teeth, slightly sharper than Terran, scrape across her skin.

Astra gasps when he pulls away suddenly, his hands sliding possessively down her sides, anchoring on her hips as he lifts her slightly, placing her delicately on his desk before pressing himself between her slightly spread thighs.

She couldn't keep up with him. It seemed like his lips and hands were everywhere and nowhere at the same time. His actions were so contradictory; sometimes he treated her as if she were made of glass, only to grab and kiss her with bruising force.

Her own fingers are sinking into his hair, gripping tightly as he pulls her bottom closer to the edge of the desk, pressing his hips against her own with precision; his other hand that is not gripping the curve of her hip weaves into the bun of her hair, forcing her head to snap back, his tongue licking a hot trail from the hollow of her throat to the underside of her jaw, right by her ear. His hot breath is searing. Her chest is heaving, her body desperately trying to keep up with her breathless lungs.

Khai growls against her skin, his teeth scraping against the hollow beneath her ear as his hips gyrate a slow rhythm against her own, heat flashing through his body as the female writhes against him, gasping brokenly. Her strength is not comparable to his own; he is strong enough to keep her pinned right where she is and he enjoys that, inky emotions spreading across his mind like a fog. He is blinded, her scent filling his head; he growls when he detects the cloying scent of her arousal, the heavy heat between his legs throbbing as he pushes against her again. Every reaction he pulls from her feels like lightning across his skin.

His lips move down her neck again, grazing the skin, shivers shooting up her spine. _"Qual se tu?"_ he asks, his voice husky and dark, hips pushing against her own, his hardness grinding against a spot that makes her entire body quiver.

 _Is it you?_ Her mind is so fuzzy – the question is so simple, but she can't find an answer, the words thick on her tongue as both of his hands slide down to her lower back, his chest pushing against her own, simultaneously pushing her down and pulling her hips closer to his so that he has better access to her body. She gasps rapidly, pulling in air as quickly as possible as her shoulders touch the cool surface of his desk.

Khai pauses, pulling back a fraction of an inch so that their eyes connect – the exact shade of dark plumb, reflecting passion at each other. _"Qual se tu?"_ he asks again, punctuating his question with a harsh thrust of his hips.

Her mouth drops open with a low moan, her fingers digging into his shoulders. " _Ha,"_ she answers back. "Yes, yes."

Khai growls again, pivoting his hips deliciously, his mouth moving to the nape of her neck, teeth scraping, searching for the right spot; his right hand curves around her hip, sliding up her ribs and ghosting cruelly over her pert breast, his fingers finally pausing at her temple. His index and middle fingers are closed together, pressing into the thin tissue of her psi-points, his thumb caressing her delicate cheekbone. _"Nahp, hif-bi tu throks_ ," he demands, opening a connection between them.

 _Nahp hif-bi tu throks. Your thoughts, give them to me_ , he repeats silently, speaking to her mind through his own.

Astra does, unconsciously giving her entire mind to Khai, opening her mind up to his own, the silver chain linking them together glowing brightly as his lips again move over her own. He navigates through her mind, in awe of all the silvery thoughts, shining, pure white snow, and sun, chaotic and calm, her mind as transparent as glass, strong as diamonds. He finds the base of their link, the one that connects to his own considerably darker mind, though no less silver – his own mind made more of harsh lines and steel strength, organized with black backdrops, and studded with control and shadows to shield himself.

Their connection is electric as Khai initiates the First Bond, the joining of minds, the betrothal that strengthened their fledgling silver chain, protecting that link with fog and mist, making it harder to find, harder to destroy. The chain glows brightly as his hips move against hers, Astra's legs opening wider, accommodating his narrow frame; they pant into each other's mouths, violet eyes open, unblinking, staring, memorizing the lilac flush on his face, the pink-lavender staining her own cheeks.

 _T'hy'la_ , he tells her, drawing his mouth away from her own, licking, nipping, sucking down her neck to the nape again.

 _Soulmate,_ she responds back, translating his Giidas words into Standard, feeling the weight of them on her own soul, feeling their truth.

 _T'nash-veh_ , he growls against her skin.

 _Yes, I belong to you_ , Astra tells him, gasping when the intensity of their connection glows white as his fingers press onto her temple.

Khai growls against her skin again, carefully licking the tender skin at the nape of her neck, his hardness continually grinding into the most feminine part of Astra. _Mine. T'nash-veh_ , he says silently, claiming her again right as his teeth sink into her skin, marking her.

Astra's hips buck up, her body warring between sweet pleasure and the sharp pain of his teeth in her neck; her mind is blazing white, the silver chain that he found vibrating happily. Her body is tensing, twitching, begging for _something_ as his hips grow more forceful and his fingers move in a circular motion against her temple. Sharing thoughts, Khai seems to get an impression of what she needs and his teeth pull out of her skin, tongue licking away dark purple blood tinged with red, before he presses his forehead against hers, retaining their mind-meld as his hand pulls away from her face and grasp onto her hips. Maintaining heady eye contact, he watches as his _t'hy'la_ gasps out his name, her hips rising instinctively to meet the grinding, circular motion of his own.

" _T'nash-veh_ ," he growls at Astra as her eyes flutter, lavender color high on her cheeks, her lily-white skin smelling so sweetly of honey and tea. "Mine, mine, mine," he says, pleasure shooting through his spine as her hips arch upwards and her mind shatters white with orgasm, prompting his own, leaving their bodies shuddering against each other, twitching, oversensitive.

Khai pulls back a mere centimeter, their mind-meld melting away as their bodies recover. He feels at peace. _"T'hy'la_ -"

His com-unit dings with an incoming transmission and the peace between them is shattered.

He takes a hurried step back, horrified at his actions – not regretful, but horrified that they had happened _here_ , in the middle of the day, without planning. He didn't like spontaneity. He realized that he was embarrassed.

Astra is confused as he pulls away, reality seeping in, the heat on her cheeks hot as she realizes what had just occurred, though she didn't understand the full implications. _He asked if it was me – called me his Soulmate – demanded my thoughts – said I was his – and…what does this mean?_

The com-unit dings again and Khai inhales, stopping suddenly with arousal filters through his system in response to the scent of her lust and his own, a heady combination that makes his mind stutter. She can't be here right now – she needs to leave before he loses control again. _"Trashu,"_ he says coldly. _Leave. I must regain control._

Astra shakes her head at the demand, struggling to comprehend – he wants her to leave after they shared…but why? She moves sluggishly, her confusion showing in her movements. "Khai-"

"Lieutenant Commander," he corrects stonily, aware that he is distancing himself from her but if he is not in control, then she is at risk. She cannot be at risk. "Leave, Cadet."

Astra is strong enough mentally that she does not cry or react emotionally. Perhaps because she is stunned into silence, she does not react at all, save for sliding off the desk, fixing her skewed hair to cover the burning mark on the back of her neck, and sending him one blank look before walking out the door as the com-unit dings again. Perhaps, because she had seen into his mind just as clearly as he had seen into hers, she understood that he needed to recoup. She could easily find him again later and ask to know what just transpired.

Khai waits until she is out of the room before his hands find his hair, a gesture of his frustration, a slight scowl slanted across his lips. He shoots a mildly annoyed glare towards the com-unit when it chimes again but answers it promptly, the holo-screen showing Captain Charles Godric on the other end of the call.

"Didn't think you were going to answer," he says jovially.

"Captain."

Charles Godric furrows his brows, looking at the Lieutenant Commander critically – lilac flushed lips, heated ears and cheeks, ruffled hair, and rumpled clothing. "Did something happen?"

Khai averts his eyes, refusing to think about it. He would meditate on what happened later, in the privacy of his own home, where he could be humiliated by his lack of control _by himself_. "Negative, Captain. Is there a reason for this video transmission?"

Captain Godric knows Khai well enough to understand that the young man is deflecting and he allows that – everyone had his secrets. "Always to the point, son? Alright, yes, there is a reason I'm calling. My First Officer on board here has contracted some Zaintes illness and can't serve at the moment and I thought maybe you'd like to be on-ship for a little while until she gets better."

Khai's mind flashes to the Cadet – to Astra – and his answer is immediate. "Yes. I'll be on the next transport out."

"Excellent."

This was the logical decision – leaving her. She was not safe because he could not maintain his control. He had to protect her from himself and he would. It was his duty to do so.

***N*O*V*A***

Astra woke up with a dreadful headache, a message on her pocket-com – her stomach sank, and her heart lodged in her throat as she processed the meaning of the message.

 _Due to Lieutenant Commander Khai's reassignment to U.F.S Terrain, your position of teaching aid has been revoked until further notice_.

He left.

As if nothing had happened.

 _Or…_ she thinks with mounting anger, _because something had happened._

The annoyance flashing through her system makes her limbs jittery and she stands from her bed, stomping over to her closet and taking out the first clothes her hands touched, which was a fitted shirt and her heaviest weighted pants. She threw the clothes on, stepped into her boots without tying them, and rushed out of the dorm, ignoring Rosy's startled look and Mari'Ahlice's perceptive gaze. Other cadets moved out of her way as she ran to the gym and banged on Sergeant Dmitri's door.

"Cadet?" he asks with a confused frown. "Are you okay-"

"I'd like to sign up for saber courses. Now."

Sergeant Dmitri's brows shoot up as he takes in her appearance – tangled hair, laces untied, eyes bright red instead of silver. "Those weapons are intended for men," he says, baiting her, testing her. "It would take you at least a year to learn how to properly wield a saber."

He is pleased when her eyes glint with determination.

"I'll learn in five months," she tells him coldly, the fine features of her face fierce.

Sergeant Dmitri smiles slowly. "I wouldn't expect anything less. The training is going to be hard."

Astra's eyes narrow slightly and her chin lifts with defiance. "I can handle pain," she tells him, though she's not sure if she's speaking about the training or the heartbreak that was painting her mind in shades of grey. "And I can take care of myself."


	23. Part 2: 1

**Part 2**

**1**

_Gamma Quadrant, 2621_

" _Beta shift is now starting. All Alpha crew please leave the bridge. Beta shift is now starting-_ "

"Time to let the cat out of the bag."

Lieutenant Commander Khai looks up from his com-unit on the bridge, the green holo-screen casting a neon glow on his blank face, steel-toned eyes dark and serious. The starship was not new – in fact, the Engineering deck was undergoing a quick reboot now – but Khai felt it was adequate. His mind was in other places and had been for the past month, not that he would formally acknowledge this. "I do not understand," he says blandly.

Emet, a burly Anzite with deeply tanned skin and unruly curls the color of dark chocolate, is standing over his station, lips pulled into a smug expression. The Helmsman had taken a liking to the Lieutenant Commander for no reason that either male could figure; their relationship was rather uneven, with Emet and Khai unable to communicate as efficiently as Khai preferred. He concluded that their miscommunication stemmed from the Helmsman's increasingly odd speech patterns and humorous inclinations that Khai quite simply did not comprehend. In short, the Helmsman… _irritated_ Khai.

Emet claps Khai on his shoulder, jarring the Giidas male, his entire body tensing up at the contact. "Time to let the cat out of the bag," he repeats.

"I do not understand this phrase. Explain," Khai demands shortly.

"It means to reveal a secret. I know you have one."

If possible, the Lieutenant Commander grows tenser, his steel-toned eyes colder than ice. He finds his physical reaction unsatisfactory but he is unable to quell the manifestation of his emotion and is, in fact, rather reluctant to. Since his lapse of control with his Cadet – _no, the Cadet, not his_ – his emotional control had been shaky at best and despite the countless hours of meditation since arriving on this starship, he had not been able to rein in his reactions. It left him feeling raw, exposed, which he did not appreciate.

Khai straightens his posture, standing a few inches shorter than the seven-foot-tall Anzite. "A most illogical phrase," he says coolly. "I assure you, I have no secrets that would endanger the mission or this ship."

As he spoke the words, however, Khai was unsure if they were truthful or not. He had been raised and trained to be truthful, for it was illogical to lie, but he did find himself reluctant to discuss the exact reason he had taken Captain Godric's offer to come aboard the starship. Anzites were intuitive and Emet especially had a knack for understanding when Khai was avoiding a topic – in particular, Emet had the intuitive inclination to imply that Khai had something to hide.

And he did. Not that he was ashamed of what happened between him and the Cadet – far from it, in fact – but he knew what happened was inappropriate given her role as his teaching aid and his position as a professor at the Federation Academy. The fact that he had developed feelings towards the Cadet was, at this point, arbitrary – if he had allowed himself to stay on Terra, stay near her, he would have endangered both of their careers, not to mention that Khai wasn't completely certain his advances were welcomed. He was aware that she had not protested at the time, but in many ways, he felt that he had forced his newfound sexuality onto a young girl and, for that, he felt complete and utter disgust. His lapse in control was dangerous for her, of that he was certain.

"Gentlemen," Captain Godric greets, stepping off the Captain's Chair in the center of the bridge. "I believe the ship AI has dismissed us from Alpha shift."

"Indeed, Captain."

Emet grins easily. "I could eat a horse, Captain. Care to join us for dinner?"

To Khai's internal dismay, the Captain seems to understand the colloquialism that Emet uses, though the Lieutenant Commander can't seem to move past the idea that an alien not native to Terra would wish to ingest a Terran mammal that is primarily used for equestrian sports. His mind lingers on the odd phrase, dissecting the individual syllables as the Captain and Helmsman enter the turbolift, Khai following behind for no other reason than he is also ready for his evening meal. He tunes back into their conversation when he hears his own name-

"…And I was _just_ asking the Lieutenant Commander to chew the fat when he decided to clam up," Emet finishes, shooting a sidelong glance at Khai, who has raised one brow in both confusion and interest.

"I am not a bivalve mollusk," Khai states.

Captain Godric laughs. Loudly.

Emet's hand claps down on Khai's shoulder again. "Clamming up means that you don't want to talk about something."

"That is an accurate statement, though most illogical, as bivalve mollusks do not possess the ability to speak. Furthermore, I am uncertain as to why ingesting fatty tissue would-"

To his confusion, both the Captain and the Helmsman begin to laugh in earnest as the turbolift doors open onto the level of the starship that contains the mess hall. Khai bypasses the officers and waits for a Replicator to open up, hands clasped behind his back, face carefully calm as he waits in line. He does not understand what is so amusing to the Captain and the Helmsman, though he postulates that perhaps they find humor in his lack of comprehension of the illogical phrases Emet is prone to use.

One of the female officers in front of him places her order into the Replicator, a Twi'lek apple appearing on the plate – and Khai's steady heartbeat falters. The Cadet frequently at that fruit, had once told him that it was one of her favorites to consume.

A wave of irritation flashes through his mind. Could he not escape her? Thoughts of the Cadet plagued his waking hours, his moments of meditation, and in the past two weeks, she had entered his dreams, an uninvited guest that he couldn't bring himself to dismiss. He….missed her company, he realized, and perhaps this was the reason behind her presence at the most impromptu times.

He could have dismissed her image from his thoughts altogether if not for the First Bond. With a shamed bow of his head, Khai recalled his fingers at her temple, their minds melded together, the sheer white and silver brilliance of her thoughts and emotions. He was betrothed to a student – and she, most likely, did not even realize it.

The fact of the matter was that he was causing himself harm by being so far away from her, his betrothed; the First Bond encouraged prospective mates to spend time together, thus making the Second Bond much more comfortable. He was punishing himself for his illogical and unauthorized actions by accepting Captain Godric's invitation and could only hope that the Cadet did not feel the effects of a strained bond. He daily checked their silver chain, which was anchored with surprising strength – not to sever the bond, but to maintain its protection. Through his creation of the First Bond was highly illogical, it was also _acceptable_ , as a Giidas did not come across a _t'hy'la_ frequently; and especially for a Giidas who had the mating instincts programmed out of his genetic code, his connection to the Cadet, inconvenient as it was, is sacred.

And he is growing more desperate for her by the day.

Refusing to let these thoughts distract him from a most vital routine, Khai instructs the Replicator to create a traditional Giidas dish - though, in all honesty, Khai does not feel hunger and had not felt hunger since he made the Cadet leave his office exactly 33 days, 7 hours, 23 minutes, and 3 seconds ago.

If Khai had bothered to monitor his physical health as closely as he monitored his bond to his Cadet – _the Cadet_ – then he might have realized that he had lost weight, that his face had become more gaunt than defined, that his eyes held shadows beneath them that seemed reluctant to leave. Any attention that should have been paid to his own health was completely devoted to watching his _t'hy'la's_ health, which he was relieved to note did not suffer since his departure. Perhaps due to her half-blood status, she did not feel the First Bond as deeply as he did, though, by that logic, he might hypothesize that she did not feel the bond at all. The possibility of this makes his plomeek soup less appetizing than before.

_I extracted myself from the situation in order to protect both her virtue and our careers; logically, I should not feel as…displaced as I do. Yet…_

"What's with the cold shoulder?" Emet asks as he sits down at the table Khai had selected specifically for the fact that it was empty.

Khai pushes his soup around with his food, his mouth dry and tasteless. "I assure you, my inherent body temperature is, in fact, 5 degrees hotter than your own. My shoulder, therefore, is not _cold_ -"

Emet rolls his eyes again. "No. I meant, why are you acting like this? Even for a Giidas, you seem so aloof. Are you okay?"

Khai tilts his head to the side, ascertaining that Emet felt genuine concern for his mental well-being, as the Captain sits down on Emet's other side. He does not have a chance to address the Helmsman's concern before the Captain cuts in.

"I think it's girl trouble."

"Captain?"

Charles Godric shakes his head at Khai. "Son, I've known you for a long time and the only time you've behaved even remotely like this was the week when Cadet Astra was being tested for admission to the Academy."

Khai opens his mouth to protest the accusation and shuts it promptly, his memory jetting back to that exact week. He realizes, with a sink of his stomach that is most unsatisfactory, that the Captain is correct.

"A chink in his armor, Captain?"

Khai does not bother to dissect this idiom, as it seems to be straightforward. And correct.

"It would seem so, Lieutenant," Charles answers Emet, eying Khai's blank face. "What happened, son?"

"I do not wish to discuss the issue at this time."

"Now, I know you Giidas like to bottle up your emotions and that's just fine. But no man can figure out a woman's actions by himself," the Captain says with certainty. "Astra is Terran, Khai. You might need some assistance-"

"The Cadet is not, in fact, completely Terran. It was the discovery of such information that served as the catalyst to my departure."

Captain Godric puts down his fork, staring at his Lieutenant Commander with wise, intelligent eyes, understanding the implications behind the veiled words. Something happened – something big that has evidently shaken Khai to the core of his being, something intimidating enough that Khai uncharacteristically took the first opportunity to get the hell out of dodge. The Giidas culture was, as a whole, secretive about their rituals, but Charles had a feeling that whatever they did couldn't be too different from what Terran males did. He supposed that finding out this untouchable gypsy girl wasn't wholly Terran was quite the discovery for his Lieutenant Commander. In fact, if Charles thought about it enough, he supposed whatever reaction Khai had probably stemmed from the fact that Astra was a bit Giidas genetically and with how repressed Khai was raised, he probably scared himself, not that Khai would ever admit to such a thing. A wry smile crosses the Captain's lips as he recalls how _unkempt_ Khai appeared on the day Charles invited him aboard this starship as his First Officer – it wasn't that hard to put two and two together and figure out that something _physical_ had happened between his Lieutenant Commander and his favorite Cadet. He laughs to himself, seeing Khai in a new light. "I understand, son. But we all get over our first kiss eventually."

To his amusement, Khai's ears color with a flush of light purple as the Lieutenant Commander avoids his gaze. "I am afraid that it was more than a simple kiss, Sir."

Captain Godric pauses and glances at Emet, who he had grown to see as a friend given the proximity of their ages – Emet was only five years younger, after all, and the best damn pilot the Federation had ever seen.

"Spill the beans!"

Khai frowns. "As none of us are currently consuming legumes, I must assume that this colloquialism refers to the revealing of secrets, much like the cat in the bag scenario you presented to me earlier."

"Right," Emet answers, silently thrilled that the Lieutenant Commander was beginning to play along. "So, tell us what happened."

Khai is pensive for a moment, weighing the options silently. He was aware of his conflicting emotions but was unsure as to how discussing the incident would serve to resolve these feelings. He was also undoubtedly embarrassed by his lack of control – and felt that the exact details of the moment shared between him and the Cadet should be kept private.

A red alert suddenly blares through the ship's AI system, the ship rocking, lights flashing red. _"All bridge crew report to your stations."_


	24. Part 2: 2

**2**

_Gamma Quadrant, 2621_

Captain Godric is the first to react – naturally – his body moving towards the com-unit on the wall beside the mess hall door before the ship's Artificial Intelligence is even done announcing the red alert. His hand slams down on the screen as he yells at the AI to connect him to the bridge crew.

"What's happening up there?" Captain Godric demands, body tense and alert as his mind automatically begins running scenarios – in deep space, anything could make a ship rock the way he just had and he desperately hoped it was an asteroid.

" _Captain. There is an unidentified ship ahead,"_ his Second Officer reports. _"We can't get a reading on it – the ship is blipping on and off our radar. I suspect a cloaking device is in use given how suddenly the ship appeared. They could have been watching our location for hours while the ship is being repaired_."

Charles curses, his face grim – an unidentified ship could mean many things, but one that attacked without provocation was more dangerous and needed to handled safely. Captain Godric had never lost more than one life while on-ship and he wasn't about to start now. "I want Communications to stay on this. If we can get their radio channel, we can lock onto their location. I'm coming up to the bridge. Godric out."

Emet rushes past the Captain and slams the button to call the turbolift. "I have an algorithm that might work in finding this invisible ship, Captain," he says, his face serious, devoid of all humor. He was eager to be at the Navigation console, wanted his hands on the screen, searching for that ship with the crew – Emet thrived in chaos.

Captain Godric nods and turns to address those who still remained in the cafeteria. With the AI system, he no longer had to issue orders for red alerts, and though standard procedure encouraged all non-essential personnel to relocate themselves to the protected core of the ship, he found comfort in giving orders the old-fashioned way. "All of you, get to the Crux. Take any crew members you come across," he orders as he walks quickly towards the turbolift. Stepping onto the platform, he turns to look at his Lieutenant Commander, who is currently gazing at several projected screens from the AI console with a blank face. "Khai," he calls. "I need you on the bridge."

Khai's eyes are intent on the projected readouts of the ship's warp core and energy storage – the core was fine but the energy storage was not at an acceptable level due to repairs, which required a shut down of energy creation. If the ship was not retaining energy, then that meant the shields were down; probably why the ship had been hit in the first place. With solemn eyes, Khai feels his brows draw together. "Negative, Captain. I am needed in Engineering."

"You are not an Engineer, Lieutenant Comman-"

"I am aware of this Captain. However, given the readings of our energy levels and the need to reroute energy to our phasers and shields, it would be most logical if I assisted on the Engineering deck since I have the most working knowledge of the energy routers."

Captain Godric is pensive, his mind working quickly. Khai was nothing if not logical – and he was right about the energy needing to be rerouted. But… "Engineering can take care of the rerouting," he argues.

Khai shakes his head once. "Negative, Captain. According to these readouts, the Engineering deck has already been hit once and a seam has opened up in the fourth layer. We are losing oxygen from Engineering," he reports stonily. "It would be most logical if I were to replace the crewmen in Engineering, as I have a higher chance of survival in free space than they do, given the genetic modification to my body."

Charles narrows his eyes in thought, aware that he is losing valuable time arguing with Khai's logical solution. It _was_ logical as this type of situation was exactly what Khai was created for; the Lieutenant Commander was manufactured to be of use in situations such as this so there would be less chance of losing innocent lives. What was one life compared to dozens from Engineering? With a resigned sigh, Godric dismisses Khai with a wave of his hand, nodding to Emet to close the turbolift and take them to the bridge.

Khai waited until the remaining crew on this deck had filed into the remaining turbolift and disappeared to the Crux deck before tightening his hands into fists.

He did not _want_ to go to Engineering and risk his life. He was not so noble for that to be his first and only concern. Perhaps in the past, he would have done so without thinking, put his life in place of others – but it was different now. Rather, _he_ was different. He had a First Bond to think about, the majority of his brain functions wondering if his Cadet would realize if he was to die in the Gamma Quadrant.

Khai forced himself to ignore these thoughts – it was illogical to squander time on them during such a critical situation.

He waited for the turbolift to return before shooting down to Engineering, stomach rolling with the weightless feeling from moving downwards so quickly. Stepping off the turbolift platform, Khai immediately detects a slight percentage decrease for oxygen in the air. Hands behind his back, he raises his voice to be heard. "This is Lieutenant Commander Khai. You are all to report to the Crux immediately."

Several engineers stop and stare before his cold gaze snaps them to attention and they move as a group towards the turbolift. The Head of Engineering is reluctant to leave, though. "Lieutenant Commander, I think it's best if I remain-"

"This is not an optional order, Lieutenant El'zar," Khai interrupts coldly.

The Lieutenant swallows and nods, moving swiftly past the unflappable Giidas Lieutenant Commander.

Khai's years of intense training – as well as his own personal knowledge of Advanced Engineering – prompts his first actions, which is sealing the Engineering deck; he lowers the force field around the entire deck, ensuring that _if_ the situation went south, the rest of the ship would be relatively safe from any warp core explosions. His next action was to reroute the energy levels from sustaining the warp core to reinforcing the shields and the phaser; the warp hummed a low pitch as it moved into a hibernating state, still pulsing with energy, but reserved.

"AI, report percentage of crew in the Crux," he requests shortly, tapping into the radar screen that the Engineering deck shared with the bridge.

" _88% of crew signatures report in the Crux; 5% remain in the medical bay,"_ the AI reports.

Khai's mental calculations are swift – 3% of the crew remained on the bridge at all times, meaning 4% of the crew was not in a safe location at the time. He checked the ship shields a second time, which was unnecessary, as the shielding ratio had not changed. His steel-toned eyes were drawn back to the radar screen just as the ship AI opened up a communication from the bridge. "Khai here," he greets coolly, not pausing from his current task for a second.

" _Khai_ ," Captain Charles says tensely. _"We're not seeing any sign of a ship, not even a cloaked one. Emet's still working with his algorithm."_

Khai did not frown, though he wanted to; he had never heard of a cloaked ship that simply couldn't be found. Of course, the entire ideology behind cloaking a ship was to become invisible to both the naked eye and ship radar systems, but the technology required to cloak a ship also left behind a distinct signature of _nothing_. A void in space that was found with a radar system was either a black hole or a cloaked ship. And, at this point, Khai saw no indication of either. He supposed it was possible that the ship had warped out of the area; he turns his attention to the long-range sensors as he speaks to his Captain. "I have rerouted our energy to the ship's shield and the phasers. I have also sealed off the Engineering deck with a force field, as per regulations."

Though Khai has trouble discerning emotion from speech alone, he can ascertain that the Captain is expressing concern when he speaks. "Well done, Khai."

"Praise is illogical at such a time-"

There was no warning.

The radars were not advanced enough on this particular ship to detect the disturbance until it was too late.

The explosion seemed to happen all at once, though Khai's superior memory was able to dissect every second; first, the torpedo slammed through the cracked seal in the outer layer of the ship, bursting into the fourth floor of the Engineering deck and managing to hit one of the supports for the warp core; second, that torpedo exploded, fire igniting the entirety of the Engineering deck; third, the red alert changed into a black alert because the warp core had been hit.

Khai's body had reacted on instinct immediately. The thick lines of black tattoos that covered 52% of his body rose by millimeters on his skin and seemed to spread, connecting to each other until every inch of his body was covered in black armor, a black mask layered over his face, pressed against his nose and mouth, protecting his lungs from the majority of the smoke. He flexes his fingers, eyes peering at the wreckage of heat around him before darting to the yellowish force field that shielded the rest of the ship; the use of the force field on sealing the Engineering deck had also left the deck exposed from the outside, as the ship's shield could not perform both actions on the same deck at once. When Khai had complied with regulation procedures, he had accepted this outcome as a possibility, knowing that he was risking his own life by sealing the deck and saving the lives of the crewmembers.

It was his duty.

Behind him, the communication line crackles with the Captain's distant voice – but not even Khai's heightened hearing can understand what Charles Godric is yelling about over the noise of the bridge, the black alert alarming ship-wide, and the crackling of the hot flames licking at his uniform.

Khai does not pause to think more about his actions. He doesn't have to. He was created specifically for this purpose.

A weapon.

A warrior.

A sacrifice for other lives.

He was intelligent enough to understand that his next actions would define the course of his life. He might have taken the cowardly option and turned his back to the shaking warp core, might have removed the force field, and condemned the crew to death, as well as himself.

But Khai was no coward – he was logical, a cool machine slipping through bright yellow and orange flames, breathing steady, mind clear.

He jumps off the edge of the connecting bridge, his dense body falling down to the fourth floor of the Engineering deck, landing on his feet solidly. He ignored the fact that his clothes were on fire – with his body armor, he felt very little except for the stifling heat – and approached the rattling warp core. The energy this close was powerful enough to rattle his clenched teeth as he stepped over scraps of the exploded torpedo and approached the console of the core, which was melted under the heat of the relentless fire. Though the warp core was hibernating, the energy levels significantly lower than normal, Khai understood that it still had the potential to explode and he was unsure if the force field around the Engineering deck would hold for something so powerful.

He would have to shut down the core manually, then.

It was a challenge, certainly, but one that he had been trained for; his working knowledge prompted his next movements, swift as they were, as he forced open the protective barrier that shielded crewmembers from the intense radiation, slipping beneath the warp core on his stomach and ripping off a section of the floor. The level of radiation made his bones hurt, a pain that he ignored as he reached his long arms forward, slender black armor-covered fingers pressing against buttons and carefully disconnecting wires. He followed a specific process to ensure that he did not accidentally overload the warp core and several minutes later, around the time that Khai began dry heaving from the intensity of the radiation, the humming of the core ceased completely.

Khai pants against the floor for a long moment, his head spinning. The radiation had made him positively _ill_ , but he could not stop, not yet. He forces himself to sit up, then stands, slipping back out of the barrier, securing the latch on the door behind him, his stomach churning as the heat assaults his sensitive armor, which had been weakened by the radiation.

The torpedo had ripped open the ship not twenty feet away, the vacuum of space pulling fire and metal through the broken seal; before shutting down the warp core, he had been able to ignore the pull. But now, weak as he was, his dense body was being pulled in the direction of the black abyss beyond the ship. He tried to resist by gripping solid objects near him, but his efforts were for naught.

The radiation had thrown off his metabolic functions to such a degree that he must have blacked out for a moment; when he opened his eyes again, it was only because another torpedo had torn into the ship, exploding on the level above him.

The ship was old – not as sturdy as it had been twenty years ago. It was not prepared to handle such barbaric attacks. Another section of the ship, a large section, was blown off in the explosion of the second torpedo, massive chunks of the Engineering deck flying into space, Khai following along with them, anchored to a long piece of metal that served to support the upper levels of the deck.

Khai could not breathe in space – not for long, and he was already weak.

He fought against the momentum of the explosion, forcing his body to jump from one scrap of the deck to another, always fighting to get closer to the ship.

Had he not been fighting for his life, he might have considered how soothingly _silent_ space was, dark and weightless. Peaceful.

He didn't linger on those thoughts. He was too far away from the ship – and there was no more shrapnel from the explosion to use as leverage to propel himself forward. Khai was stuck in a limbo between the remains of the explosion and the gaping hole in the side of the ship. He floated in the limbo, finally noticing that his armor on the left side of his body had not held up; his pale skin was exposed in places, now deep red from severe burns, thick lines of his tattoos retreating into his body.

From this angle, he could see the silvery glow of the ship shield and he was very suddenly reminded of his betrothed, his _t'hy'la_. Their bond was silver and misty, a chain connecting them across light-years.

Khai sensed that his metabolic functions were shutting down – he'd finally run out of oxygen, his few minutes of borrowed time in space coming to a close.

 _Logic,_ he decided _, has no place in the final moments of life_.

He had done what he was supposed to do – acted as the perfect weapon, the perfect warrior, saved the lives of his crewmen as he was designed to do.

And now, dying, Khai decided that he was allowed to be selfish.

He thought of Astra, his heart thumping painfully as he allowed himself to think her name. _Astra. My t'hy'la_.

His eyes closed as his mind played images of her stunning, delicately crafted face, her silver-wisp eyes flashing orange with curiosity and aquamarine with insight. Lilac with lust. Her lips, lush and full; the pattern of her freckles; the smoothness of her lily-white skin beneath his palms as he kissed her; her tea-and-honey scent; and the precise tone of her voice as she moaned breathlessly beneath him.

He'd been foolish, he realizes belatedly. Completely illogical in his decision to _leave_ his _t'hy'la_ ; if he could take it back, he would in a second.

Shamed of his actions, Khai reaches for their link and finds it undisturbed, shrouded in silver mist, and feels a wave of gratitude that Astra did not seem aware of his impending death, for her side of their bond was untouched. He doubted she realized it was there and, for that, he was thankful; she would never have to realize the pain of a lost bondmate.

Distantly, Khai realizes that his breathing had stopped completely – he could no longer hold onto Astra's image or the manifestation of their bond.

His mind fades to black

***N*O*V*A***

Khai wakes to bright lights and pain – and Emet's jovial voice.

"Looks like it's too soon for you to kick the bucket, _Commander_ ," Emet says happily, his voice far too loud in the relative silence of the room.

His mind is so incredibly muddled and he feels as though the left side of his body was being held over a hot fire, which, as he recalls, is not so far from the truth. Khai wonders if his accelerated healing was unable to reverse the damage or if the damage simply required more time to heal. Blinking against the white lights, Khai turns his head to the side, examining his bright red skin, stomach rolling slightly at the sight of charred flesh knitting itself back together slowly, the thick lines of his tattooed armor harsh against the exposed burns. He wiggles the fingers of his left hand, eyes widening as pain races up his spine in response; Khai quickly cuts off the pain receptors in his mind and looks away from his arm.

Emet is grinning at him, leaning back in a chair that seemed too small for the tall Anzite's body. "Welcome back," Emet continues, though Khai has not responded to his initial greeting. "Glad to see you're not pushing up daisies, _Commander_."

Khai admits – if only to himself – that he is simply too tired to put effort into understanding the colloquialisms that Emet is prone to use, though he does gather from context that Emet is expressing happiness at Khai's unlikely survival. His brow rises as he registers the title that is being used to address him though. "I have been promoted?"

"They should have made you a damn Captain," Charles Godric tells him gruffly as he walks into Khai's private room in the medical bay. Unlike most people who appeared frail and weak in a biobed, Khai managed to look just as strong and stoic, as if he had simply taken a nap in the medical bay rather than nearly losing his life to save the crew. Charles meant what he said – the Admiralty should have made Khai a Captain, not a Commander. He didn't think anyone, himself included, would have done what Khai did and Charles considered it an insult that Khai's rank only raised one step. He shakes off his irritation at the Admiralty and walks to Khai's biobed, keeping his eyes off the self-healing burns. "How are you feeling, son?"

"I have blocked my pain receptors, Captain," Khai informs him blandly.

"Yeah, but how are you feeling up here?" Charles asks, tapping a finger against his own temple.

Khai offers a minuscule frown, an expression so tiny that it was barely detectable. "I seem to be missing a large amount of time, Sir, and I do not understand how I arrived in the medical bay."

Charles sits down in the other chair, shooting a glance at Emet. "After the second torpedo, the bridge received a black alert from the Engineering deck and I had one of the Ensigns get the AI to tell us what was happening. A hole in my ship, boy – that damn attack put a hole in my ship! The AI didn't report life signs from any of the levels of the Engineering deck, so Emet here did a scan of the wreckage. We got lucky. The doctors think we found you right as you passed out from lack of oxygen, otherwise, you'd be brain dead and not talking to us right now. We beamed you directly into the medical bay and they took over from there."

Khai inclines his head in acknowledgment. Though he did not believe in luck – as luck was illogical – Khai did have to admit that he had been fortunate. It went against every Giidas philosophy Khai had ever been taught, but he turned his head towards Emet and said, "You have my thanks."

"I'd do it again at the drop of a hat," Emet tells him with a serious expression.

"I do not understand this phrase," Khai responds. "Federation officers are not required to wear hats-"

"It means he'd do it without hesitation," Charles cuts in before his expression morphs into a more Captain-like solemnity. "I'm reassigning you back to the Academy, Commander. You require more time to recover from your sustained injuries as well as continuing to inspect the NOVA in my place."

For a brief moment, Khai considers protesting these orders – he was rapidly healing and, as he was created for the sole purpose of preventing others from being hurt in warfare, he saw no reason as to why he could not remain on-ship with the Captain.

But then, his bond to Astra flares up for a second, as if asking for recognition. He quickly examined the bond, satisfied that it remained as untouched as before, though he could sense his own longing seeping into the chain links. Perhaps returning to Terra would be an acceptable course of action to take. "Of course, Sir," he agrees easily.

Captain Godric appears mildly surprised as if he had expected protests. He stands, brushing the expression off his face. "Alright. I've got to make sure we dock at the starbase correctly – we're being towed by some Falleen ship and you know how rough they can be. Emet?"

Emet grins, rapping his knuckles against Khai's shoulder. "Eager to be home, hmm? Just remember, don't be all thumbs when you're trying to remove that tricky chest protector. Those things can be a bitch."

Khai swallows his excitement at Emet's implication and waits until they leave the medical bay before sinking into his bond.

* * *


	25. Part 2: 3

**3**

_London, Terra, 2621_

Astra quickly popped the tip of her index finger into her mouth, tongue soothing away the sharp burn from the snap of electricity that had managed to sting her before her reflexes prompted a reaction. She wasn't trained in any form of engineering – in fact, despite the advanced technology she handled daily, Astra was rather unskilled with technology in general. Unlike most people her age, she had never taken apart a com-unit and the only computer course she had taken had been mere months ago during her first semester at the Federation Academy; these were the disadvantages of being a gypsy. And while she understood the basic processes and could perhaps manage to tool her way out of a technical or engineering emergency, she had never _built_ anything in her life – a fact that was glaring in her face now.

It didn't help that the steadily growing headache she'd had for over a month and a half had chosen this day, in particular, to be sadistic. She wanted nothing more than to turn away from the project on her desk and huddle beneath the thin blanket on her gel-bed, away from the world and away from the steady pulse of her skull. It hurt more today than any other day, but that made sense; if she bothered to think about it in-depth, she might have realized that a tiny ache had begun the day she found out that Khai had run away off-planet and that the ache had grown worse by increments as the days passed.

But she didn't think about it in depth.

Because that would be like _admitting_ that she missed him.

Which she didn't.

Her eyes glare down at the assorted silver-white metals on her desk, shiny silver-chrome pieces, thin tools, slicks of grease, and the bane of her existence – the diatium power cell, which had to be the moodiest piece of technology she had ever had the displeasure of handling. She was having trouble getting the circuits of the power cell to route through the chamber; Astra supposed she could have asked Rosy for assistance because Rosy had already offered to help, but Astra had to prove a point.

Lately, she felt like proving herself was _all_ she did. She pushed herself harder than she ever had in her life, her body growing stronger through bruises and lacerations, and she spent a good portion of each week in the infirmary. Doctor Carl appeared concerned, having taken on a big-brother persona after she yelled at him several weeks ago; she'd long since forgiven him for sending her blood to the Intergalactic Database, though she did say that she wished he'd asked permission beforehand. Carl was appropriately apologetic and chastised her for her own recklessness as he treated her, even when he was nervous and twitchy, which Astra had grown to accept as his natural demeanor. Ja'asper, on the other hand, encouraged her aggression and pushed her past her own assumed limits, even stepping up her physical training outside of learning how to wield a saber to push the boundaries of her stamina – and Astra found that since she discovered that half of her genetic material was Giidas, she _was_ able to overcome Terran limits. When she came back to the dorm after dinner, exhausted and sore, Rosy would look to Mari'Ahlice, who would calmly assess the situation with a knowing gleam in her rose quartz eyes.

Astra drew the conclusion that, for Mari'Ahlice and her seer Gods, her fate must be going along as planned. Sometimes, in the dark of night when Astra _finally_ let her body relax, her mind drifted to the premonition that Ahlice had related to her – that her love would be separated by distance. Astra trusted Ahlice's intuition over her own and knew, without any doubt, that the premonition had come true, though Astra was unsure if it was _love_ she felt for the Lieutenant Commander.

 _Ah. No longer a Lieutenant Commander, is he? Got a promotion out there in space, risked his life, and became a Commander_.

Astra ignores the swell of pride she feels for him, pushes it down into the farthest reaches of her mind, beneath layers of hurt and betrayal and confusion – beneath everything she had already contained for him after…whatever had happened between them. It was _something_. Was it something important? She thought so but – he left. Maybe it wasn't important.

Maybe _she_ wasn't important.

Even if Astra refused to linger on those thoughts, she knew part of the reason she pushed herself so hard – perhaps the largest part – was because yet another person had left her. It was basic psychology; people left Astra and, in response, she punished herself to _prove_ that she was worth something, at least to herself. She knew it wasn't healthy, but she couldn't help it. Proving her worth was bone-deep. Unavoidable.

Astra sighs, staring at the power cell, and dips the tips of two fingers into slick grease, carefully pushing on the powerful battery until it _clicked_ into place, snug inside the chamber of the power field conductor. _Finally_. It was a small step, a basic component, and she _finally_ made progress without being zapped by the moody contraption.

Sergeant Dmitri, she found, had a peculiar method of teaching. He was very gruff, insulting, belittling – but he got the desired results. He demanded nothing short of perfection and lost, on average, two students a week. Sabers, as it turns out, were more dangerous than any other weapon he trained students with – more so because sabers themselves were new to the Academy curriculum. A significant part of the training was the Sergeant urging cadets to build their own sabers, one that is unique to them, a saber that only that cadet could wield.

If Astra could build her own saber, then she would be eligible for the qualifying exam that allowed her to bring the weapon onboard the starship she was to be commissioned on. And that was the plan – she was sticking to it. She _would_ be among the stars.

Her stomach growls angrily, loudly, and Astra yawns, eyes darting to her small window. Dawn rising over London dyed the city with pinks and yellows; she was familiar with the sight as she hadn't slept past dawn for over a month, the constant nagging headache keeping her awake. Astra was well and truly exhausted, yet she couldn't sleep. She pushes away from her desk, inputting the protein-rich breakfast she had grown accustomed to in the Replicator and slipping into her bathroom for a honey-scented sonic shower. Body barely dry, Astra steps into heavy weighted white pants, fabric baggy against her thighs, tucked into chunky boots; she straps the weighted belt around her hips, adding more squares of weight onto the ankles of her boots, around her wrists. The belt hangs lower on one side of her body, causing her hips to sway more to the left when she walks – when she was allowed to carry a saber on her person, the weight of the weapon would mimic the weight of the belt.

She eats quickly, studying the blueprint laying beneath the various parts of her saber. She'd asked Sergeant Dmitri for a very specific design and it was proving to be more difficult than she anticipated. She wanted her saber to recognize her by blood instead of fingerprinting like most sabers; she felt that her saber would be harder for another person to use because, as far as she was aware, she was the only hybrid around. In last week's demonstration, the Sergeant had shown exactly how dangerous sabers could be; the laser was so hot and concentrated that it could cut off and cauterize limbs, melt metal, disrupt energy force fields, and start a fire. She gathered that Sergeant Dmitri was trying to scare students away – but the demonstration only made her more determined to work with an actual saber instead of the training-sabers, which only utilized weak light.

Her pocket-com rings from inside her cloak's pocket, a reminder that she was running late for her daily jog with Ja'asper. She quickly incinerates the scraps of her meal and slips the cloak over her shoulders; her newest cloak is lighter than most, and shorter, falling just to her hips with a high standing collar, no hood, the color of the Northern icecaps. Her muscles shift beneath her heavy pants and shoes as she slips out of her room, nearly running into Mari'Ahlice and the blank, dilated eyes that indicated Ahlice was having a premonition; that expression never failed to send chills down Astra's spine.

Mari'Ahlice reaches forward, unblinking, her hand cupping the side of Astra's face. " _Violence will make his guilt linger,_ " she whispers in perfect Prix'arie.

Astra shakes her head, dislodging Ahlice's wandering fingertips. " _Mari'Ahlice, what are you talking about? Who is he?"_

" _Forgiveness is the key. Violence will make his guilt linger_."

Astra huffs in frustration, watching as Ahlice walks away gracefully, standing in the middle of their small living room with a perfectly blank expression, her eyes drawn towards the ceiling; she follows the tiny Piarie, catching the sight of an open box of familiar neon candies beside a cup of bright green tea. Astra's hand rubs her forehead as she looks helplessly at Rosy, who was cleaning up her latest project from the low coffee table. "I thought we all agreed that Ahlice will only do this on the weekends," she prods.

Rosy's orange eyes fall sharply on Astra's face, a frown etched onto her plush mouth. "Don't look at me," she says defensively. "I woke up and found her punching quite happily on those hallucinogens. You look like shit, by the way."

"Thanks," Astra replies dryly, swirls of self-consciousness pulling at her mind. She knew the heavy bags under her eyes were not doing her any favors – but she couldn't sleep through the headache and Carl said she had no physical symptoms that he could treat. "I'm late for my run. Is it safe to leave her?"

Rosy waves a grease-smudged hand, pushing her tumbling blond hair away from her face. "I don't have a class until eleven today," she says by way of explanation.

Astra nods and moves towards the door, pausing when they slide open. "Rosy?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm working on building my saber and I noticed on the blueprint that I need two quartz crystals in a diamond cut. Do you know where I can find any?"

Rosy purses her lips. "I usually have half a dozen lying around my room. Drop by after dinner and take a couple off my hands."

Astra offers a wide, genuine smile. "Thanks."

By the time Astra reaches the edge of campus, that smile has disappeared, the headache pounding with too-sharp intensity; she squinted at the sun, head bowed, as she approached her friend. Ja'asper is waiting, arms crossed over his chest, his icy eyes narrowed at the holo-projection of his pocket-com. "You're late."

"Sorry. My roommate, the Piarie, had a vision."

Astra completely misses the way Ja'asper's eyes light up at the mention of the only Piarie on campus, and for that, he's glad. He wasn't terribly comfortable with his crush in the first place – no need for his best friend to be aware of it too. "Let's get going, then. You have all your weights?" he asks, hoping his voice is as neutral as he wants it to be.

Astra nods, feeling the heavy weights on her ankles, and falls into a light stretch beside Ja'asper. The idea behind the weights strapped onto her body while running was for purely conditioning purposes; the weights paired with the movement would train and strengthen her tendons, making it harder for her ankles to break during other types of training. Her body was stronger than she ever thought it could be and it showed when she easily kept pace beside Ja'asper's long, fast strides. They ran 5 miles in under an hour, pushing each other faster; each time Astra ran forward, her hip swayed more to the left, mimicking the feel of how a saber would react to this type of movement.

She liked it.

Ja'asper leads them back onto campus after the five miles, slowing their run by tiny increments on the way. "You look terrible," he started conversationally, his fast jog fading into a walk. It was true – his teenaged friend _did_ look worn out, beat down. He wondered if she noticed how devastated she looked all the time. Her face was more defined from losing weight and growing up, and her body was strong with lean muscles, but in her grey wisp eyes, Ja'asper sensed complete depression. It worried him – it was also the reason he allowed Astra to be pushed as far as she could possibly stand it. He thought the physical exertion helped numb her mind from whatever had changed a month ago. "Sad?"

Astra had learned many things from Ja'asper over the last month and a half – she had adopted his steely resolve, his icy detachment, the inherent stubbornness that was borne from the metal in his bones. She leaned on that strength now, or tried to, at least. "I'm not sad," she insists, feeling how hollow the words sound coming from her mouth.

Ja'asper raises a single metallic brow. "That sounds like denial," he tells her, entering the building and waiting for the turbolift. And it did sound like denial – it _looked_ like denial.

He wasn't completely oblivious, as she might have liked to think. He'd noticed Professor Khai's reaction when Astra had been hurt and the one brief moment he had seen them on campus together, they were in their own intimate little world. He realized that the discovery of her genes might have rocked her self-image but he'd also noticed that when Professor Khai left, Astra had begun to spiral out of control. Ja'asper wasn't sure there was anything more _he_ could do; enabling her as he had wasn't doing her any favors. Though Me'atal people were known for their detachment and obsession with honor, they also confronted their feelings head-on, a trait which Ja'asper hoped Astra might pick up on. But she was so lost in that head of hers that Ja'asper wasn't sure she would ever come back.

Something had to break. Something had to change. With an ironic twist of his lips, Ja'asper begins planning. By the time this training session was over, Astra _would_ be facing her emotions.

He sighs heavily. "But, then again, I guess you gypsies lie about a lot of things, right?"

She ignores him on the turbolift, feeling her jaw clench as her breathing levels out from their warm-up run. Ja'asper was playing at _something_ and she was determined to avoid falling into that trap.

He continues as they step off the turbolift. "Be honest. How much have you stolen in your life? You're very good at running – I bet that came in handy."

Astra's eyes flash red with irritation. "I haven't ever needed to steal," she says forcefully. _Not after I learned to use my li'lute to get money, at least. Not after Nanini died._

Ja'asper snorts, a nasty sound, his cold eyes cutting as he marches through the gym. "And I don't need to breathe. Lying again gypsy?"

Her mind clicks with intuition, eyes burning the brightest blue and she seethes internally behind him. She knew exactly what Ja'asper was doing – intentionally riling her up, for no other reason than the fact that he could. He wanted to provoke a reaction that she had yet to give him in practice. She understood that.

It didn't mean that she had to _like_ it. In fact, she was getting rather vexed by it, the pounding of her headache doing nothing to cool her irritation.

Silently, they enter the training room, the mirror-lined walls, and sink into cooling stretches, and then floor exercises that utilized gymnastics; due to Astra's smaller frame, she was much better at this part of her training that Ja'asper would ever be.

But Ja'asper was very good at other things, including testing how good her improvising is – as she is about to ease out of her handspring, Ja'asper's foot swipes one of her hands away. Astra instantly corrects her weight distribution, pivoting her body on her wrist to fall into a low roll on the floor, her leg already aiming for Ja'asper's knee. He dodges smoothly.

The silence that she had been enjoying shattered as he bounced on his toes. "Don't be such a _girl_ , gypsy. You'll never beat a man with predictable moves like that."

She glares at him, eyes dark red, face flushing with pink-lilac heat, hands clenched as she kneels on one knee – she says nothing, but he can tell her jaw is clenched.

 _Good. Get mad_ , he thinks. _Feel something real again!_

"What? Are you getting mad?" Ja'asper taunted, flexing his hands, the metal lacing his joints flashing in the low lights of the gym. "Are you going to hit me?"

Astra shot him a look that suggested she was thinking about it.

"I don't think you can," he goaded, dancing closer on the balls of his feet, a rhythmic, graceful bounce for a man with such heavy bones.

Astra strikes without warning, her body rolling through a smooth somersault, feet swiping against his, managing to clip his ankle; her movements continue, lightening-quick, aiming sharp punches to various points on Ja'asper's body. In a smooth arc, she stands, one leg swinging, missing his chin – Astra lands on that foot and melts into another roundhouse kick, elbows glued to her sides. She exhales when her aim strikes true and Ja'asper sprawls against the mats.

She stands still, watching him, breathing steady, eyes still tinted with red. "I'm mad. Does that make you happy?"

Ja'asper sits up on his elbows, offering a smile as he wipes dark blue blood off his lips – he thinks she might have dislodged a tooth, which was impressive given his biology. "It makes me relieved. I was honestly getting worried about you. You've been acting…odd."

 _Have I?_ she wonders. _More quiet, sure, but that's just the headaches. Isn't it?_

Astra presses her palm against her forehead, as if she can keep the rioting of her headache sealed inside. "Glad I can be of service," she tells him dryly, shaking off the odd feeling rolling through her chest, holding a hand out to help him stand.

Ja'asper takes her hand, looking at her palm, pulling himself up, his tall body towering over hers. He smiles. "Tell me, Halfling, do _you_ have those touch telepath skills?"

Astra pulls her hand away, shrugging. "No, I don't. At least, I don't think so. And don't call me Halfling."

He rubs his jaw. "You pack a hell of a kick either way. I didn't teach you how to combine the gymnastics yet," he says, thinking back to the fluid movements her body made. "Did you look at a holovid?"

Astra shakes her head. "No, I just…did it."

In truth, until he mentioned it, she hadn't even _realized_ she'd done anything like that – or realized that she _could_ do anything like that. She wondered where those movements came from and how she just seemed to know them. Maybe it had something to do with her genes.

Ja'asper wonders the same thing as he walks to the side of the room, picking up two training sabers, eying Astra hesitantly as he tosses one in her direction. His jaw really did hurt – perhaps provoking emotional reactions wasn't the wisest action. Maybe the Giidas people were emotionally stunted for a good reason.

Astra catches the saber, twirling the cylinder around her fingers, enjoying the feel of the cool, smooth metal. She can't stop the small contented smile from blooming on her face – with a saber in her hand, she felt powerful.

"Do you have the wrist weights on?"

Astra flexes her wrists, rolling the joint. "Yeah. I think I should add more weight tomorrow – I'm barely feeling these anymore."

Ja'asper nods and flicks on his saber, pure blue light cast on his face. "Remind me tomorrow. You can move up in the weight class if you manage to hit me today."

Astra smirks, confidence translating through her body language as she takes on the correct stance; her own training saber projected green light. She didn't wait for Ja'asper to give the go-ahead before she throws her body into her first attack, which he barely manages to block. She laughs at the disgruntled expression on his face. "What's wrong, Ja'asper? Feeling threatened?"

He rolls his eyes. "Payback really is a bitch, isn't it?"

"You have no idea."

***N*O*V*A***

As each minute passed, Khai grew more frustrated – which was highly illogical given the fact that he was at least _on_ the same planet as this _t'hy'la_. Much to his disbelief, his injuries from the Engineering deck had taken little over one week to heal, even with his accelerated abilities; the doctors at the starbase insisted on keeping him in the medical bay until each scar from the burns had faded flawlessly into his skin. He was delayed from seeing his Astra another week while he traveled on a star shuttle to Terra; unfortunately for him, star shuttles could not achieve a higher warp than level three. The entire trip he had spent meditating in his room and shamefully pacing the hallways; he ascertained that the other passengers were rather wary of him by the time they landed in London.

In his haste to find Astra, he did not board a hover bus, choosing instead to walk from the South London port. The Federation Academy was buzzing with activity by the time he walked on campus in civilian clothing mid-morning. Using the silver chain that connected him to Astra, he attempted to locate her – and stopped.

 _Busy_. _Occupied_. _Not paying attention to him_.

He felt irrationally affronted and the inky black emotions that had been laying low since he left suddenly roaring to the forefront of his mind. Khai did not fight these emotions; in fact, he welcomed them, fed them, and encouraged them. Even if his _t'hy'la_ could not feel their bond, she should have _known_ he would come for her – an illogical thought, of course, but one that drove his steps through the crowds of cadets and into the basement of the education building.

_The gym._

He never did like the scent in the gym – far too much Terran sweat and testosterone, lusty pheromones from the locker rooms, and much too dark. But he could smell her tea-and-honey scent, strong, alive, thriving, right under his nose, and he followed the trail, only mildly disturbed at how _primal_ the black emotions made him behave.

His heart clenches tightly when he sets his sights on her – fiercely beautiful, lithe, curved, womanly, intelligent, and clever green eyes. His memory did not do her justice.

She'd cut her hair into a shorter style, the dark ends brushing just above her jaw, a thick fringe of blunt bangs falling into her eyes, the hair slightly longer between her brows. Her skin, pure and lily-white, was exposed; the muscles of her shoulders and arms moving fluidly beneath the smooth surface, though his eyes did detect several yellowing bruises, which he disapproved of. Clenched in her hands was a weapon that projected green light – most fascinating.

Before his mind could begin delving into the technology behind such a weapon, his eyes snap to the other person in the room.

Male.

_Male. Too close to my t'hy'la._

A low warning growl builds in his chest and he stalks into the training room. " _Leave, rival. She is this-one's mate."_


	26. Part 2: 4

**4**

_London, Terra, 2621_

His voice was dark – deep and gritty, arresting and chill-inducing. She could recall a time when she was fourteen and in the most barren lands of Russia, surrounded by the ice of mid-winter and snow caps in the low mountains, sitting beneath the protective icicles of a great tree as she looked up at the sky and wondered what it was like to be in the center of the universe, a shiver of excitement racing down her spine at the thought; and now, as her eyes snap up to meet the black gaze of the Commander, she knows _exactly_ what it feels like to be the center of the universe.

Rather, she knows what it feels like to be the center of _someone's_ universe – his eyes are trained on her, body leaning in her direction, expression raw and livid and such a break away from his normal blank visage that Astra is left absolutely breathless. The training saber drops from her hands, the green light flickering out as it hits the mat. "Khai."

Her own voice shocks her. Flat. Wary. Dangerous. Her tone was completely disharmonious with the emotions rioting between her heart and her mind. Her hands shook, clenched, released. She exhaled and the pounding in her head grew more acute as her brain finally filtered in what he'd said in Giidal'su.

" _Leave, rival. She is this-one's mate."_

A tinge of red seeps into her field of vision, the grey wisp of her iris bathed bright red. _Rival_? Surely he didn't mean Ja'asper – but then, he was the only male near her, not that it mattered. The heart of her rage was centered on the fact that Commander Khai had the gall to march into her training session and…. _claim_ her out of the blue.

Like he had a right to do such a thing.

Her eyes narrow as she steps towards him, a low sound gathering in the back of her throat – a growl, maybe. She didn't even know she could make that sound. She'd never had a reason to before now.

A hand grips her elbow and she stops, rigidly glancing back at Ja'asper, his pale blue eyes cold and shrewd as they track the minuscule movements of the commanding officer growling not three feet away from Astra. Using his greater strength – though, not too much greater given Astra's hybrid status – Ja'asper drags her behind him, stepping slightly in front of her body, hands raising slowly in a show of caution.

It all escalated very quickly after that.

Commander Khai's eyes had grown darker, a snarl of rage passing through his lips when Ja'asper had made contact with Astra's body. He was taller than the other male, built with slightly more muscle, and he was trained to kill more efficiently than any Me'atal would ever be able to. He was faster.

And he used his speed to his advantage.

Khai's fist connected perfectly with Ja'asper's sternum before the Me'atal could even _imagine_ what his next action would be – and Khai's body continued to move, fast, lethal, striking blows that were only blocked half the time. His sharpened teeth were bared, his mind repeating one phrase without pause: _The rival touched this-one's mate. The rival touched this-one's mate. Therivaltouchedthis-one's mate_.

His mind was swallowed up with the inky black emotions.

There was no light.

Dark. Possession. Rage. Lust. Death.

Ja'asper blocks a kick meant to break his jaw, the metal lacing his bones clanking painfully each time the Commander lands a hit and he had to wonder what made this Giidas in particular so…powerful. Usually, a Giidas was nothing in comparison to a Me'atal in terms of strength and speed. He didn't know about Khai's genetics but had he any clue, he might have known that the scientists at the Giidas Institute had made Khai's body nearly indestructible – and if any harm _did_ come to their seventh experiment, accelerated healing would fix any and all damage, a gift that Khai's primal mind had no qualms about using.

The rival blocked another ruthless attack and delivered a series of quick blows to Khai's ribs, knees, neck – hits that were designed to stun rather than kill, which made Khai release an amused growling noise, his mouth pulled into a fierce snarl. _There_ , an open, unprotected place, right where the skull attached to the spine; Khai could kill the rival and then claim his mate and leave this place that did not smell enough like either of them. His fist moves quickly towards the rival's vulnerable spot and-

His killing blow is blocked.

Halted.

Prevented.

A small palm is curled around his knuckles, the touch both familiar and alarming.

 _Mate_.

Coal-black eyes dart to her face with animalistic bewilderment, the pupils dilated so wide that Astra wasn't sure if she was seeing any part of his iris. His head is tilted dramatically to the side, brows furrowing in a free expression of confusion; she doesn't know how to process seeing his emotions broadcasted on his face. It's so unusual – for him, at least. She can't see any trace of the restrained, calm, collected, _logical_ man that she had developed feelings for.

 _Khai_ was absent in this altercation. This was someone else – someone more intimidating, more frightening, more terrifyingly beautiful.

And he was beautiful, in a heartbreaking way. The strong, angular features of his face that were normally so composed and refined were alight with easily read expression. He seemed paler and taller, though she noted the slightly gaunt appearance of his face and body.

And though she was terrified by what was happening – not to mention confused – she was still able to recognize that she _missed_ him, still able to appreciate how he made her body react through the sharp pain of her headache.

Acknowledging that was easier than she thought it would have been. Before he left, she hadn't truly accepted that he made her feel something, both emotionally and physically. She wanted him, badly, and she didn't know how to process that desire that she was feeling for the first time in her life; perhaps part of her was relieved when he left because then she could continue to live happily in denial.

But now she couldn't deny any of it.

Astra wasn't sure she _wanted_ to deny it.

Her fingers squeeze around his knuckles as she pulls her eyes – now a brilliant cobalt blue – away from Khai, focusing on Ja'asper, who had frozen his body, her arm crossed over his back. "Ja'asper, I think you need to leave."

Slowly, Ja'asper straightened his body, a trickle of bluish blood leaving the split of his lip, his icy eyes wary as he stares at her hand on the Commander's; he shakes his head slowly. "I don't think I should. He's…dangerous." He didn't need to add that he didn't _trust_ the Commander now, not when a logical man behaved like a beast and certainly not with the way it looked like Khai was torn between adoring Astra and killing her.

For the second time that day, Astra feels the weight of icy detachment settle on her shoulders, her chin lifting with defiance. "He won't hurt me."

 _He wouldn't_ , she thinks, _Not when he's just called me his mate. And what had Mari'Ahlice said? No violence?_

There is a certain resolution in Astra's expression that halts Ja'asper's protests; she wouldn't be backing down and he knew her well enough, had _trained_ her well enough, to know that she could handle herself. That is the only reason why he backs out of the room, closing the doors behind him, leaving a teenager alone with a dangerous creature in the low lights of the training room. He looks out at the gym with a slightly baffled expression, unsure as to how any of the several cadets training had missed the explosion of activity from the training room; the normalcy after such an abnormal even makes Ja'asper cringe, leaning heavily against the door, standing guard, unable to hear anything from the room, yet still finding solace in the fact that he didn't leave his best friend completely alone.

As the door closes behind Ja'asper, the creature inside Khai's consciousness seems to blink back to activity, his tilted head and dark eyes leaning towards her. He unclenches his fist, winding his fingers around his mate's in a vulgar display – the touch was more intimate for a Giidas than kissing due to the telepathic connections in the fingers and palms. His action was nearly obscene but he could feel the tentative telepathic connections in his mate's hand waking up, as if from a deep sleep. The connection was clumsy but bright; not well-formed, but alive.

His body moves closer, crowding her personal space, chest pressing her backward until she is leaning back onto a wall, hand trapped in his grip. He likes that he is much taller than she is and offers a particularly leering smirk, his tongue tracing his bottom lip, wanting to taste her. This creature is frustrated by Khai's usual restraint and rushes into the movement, leaning down towards his mate quickly and-

Her hand stings as she slaps him, leaving a lilac flush on his pale skin in the shape of her palm. Astra watches sharply, her body postured in a casual fighting stance, as his pupils ebb away, revealing cool steel-toned irises.

_Normal. Familiar. Not so…dark._

She jerks her hand away, slipping away from the press of his firm body, palms tingling, and a rush of acute pain making her wince as her headache suddenly returns. Odd that it had disappeared when she was touching him. She wasn't sure what to think about that and so she turns to him, more comfortable in her body than she had ever been. She felt stronger, worthy, powerful – no man would break her and _this man, in particular,_ had questions to answer. "What was _that?_ " she demands coolly, proud of the detachment in her voice.

Khai flinches slightly at her tone, scrambling for control of his own mind. Terror pulsed through his blood, his metabolic functions leveling out as he forces the inky black emotions away – pushing, but unable to bury them, as they are too strong. He had the sense that the black emotions were _more_ than just emotions.

He swallows. Was it possible that his manipulated genetic makeup had somehow borne a different personality? When the inky emotions were at the forefront of his mind, he did not feel like _himself_ ; in fact, he felt almost distant from his actions and speech, as if something else – someone else – was controlling him. Or perhaps the black feelings were allowing his true self to reign.

Both possibilities were unsettling.

Khai clenches his hands behind his back, ignoring the shaking of his body with single-minded intensity – he can almost smell her confusion and lingering fear, a fact which pains him in the most visceral of ways. He did not want to frighten her but has the notion he already has with his behavior, _all_ of his behavior. He had much to make up for – starting with a Terran apology. "I am sorry."

Astra raises one brow. "I was under the impression that apologies were illogical."

Khai's eyes are tinted the lightest blue when he looks at her, his gaze direct and sincere. "I've come to understand that with regards to you, I am illogical."

Her breath catches. _That sounded like a confession_.

Khai studies her open expression, taking note of the widening of her eyes and the bright orange color of her eyes – she was curious, perhaps surprised, but not angry, and that he could work with. "I have much to apologize for, Astra," he says, aware that this is the first time he had ever addressed her without the title of Cadet. In the Gamma Quadrant, he had been so insistent on keeping her at arm's length, keeping her as _the Cadet_ instead of what she truly was – his Soulmate, his other half, his _t'hy'la_ …and, in tune with the inky creature controlling his darker emotions, his _mate_. Now, seeing her color-shifting eyes, smelling the tea-and-honey scent, he cannot deny the realization that had come to him during what he thought were his final moments and he had no intentions of letting her deny their connection either. He continued after a short pause, "Perhaps the most important apology I owe is for departing without informing you."

Astra shuffles back a step, suddenly feeling the weight of her training clothing and boots for the first time in months. She doesn't miss the way Commander Khai's eyes follow the dipping movement of her hip as she puts more distance between them. She wasn't expecting _him_ to apologize, not without a multitude of reasons as to why he didn't need to – she'd been expecting a fight, had been eager to sway his opinion about the entire debacle with her fists. But he was making it so easy and Astra could scarcely remember why she was angry with him in the first place.

And then, as if in reminder, a sharp prod at her temples reminds her of the headache that had been following her like a shadow for the past two months. She scowls at him, lifting her chin. "No," Astra disagrees. "You owe me an explanation about what happened between us and _why_ it happened and then maybe I'll consider your apology for running away like a scared little boy."

Khai feels his brows rise by a quarter of a centimeter. _Interesting. She requires an explanation with an apology._ He had not anticipated that, but nevertheless, the explanation came from his mouth tonelessly, his head tilted slightly to the left as he speaks to her in the language of the High Clans. _"Fulfilled Shan'hal'lak, t'hy'la. This-one had been foolish to deny the fledgling bond and the connection that was formed between the minds in Egypt. The Engulfment, love at first sight, the calling of the souls, was not understood by this-one, as this-one did not believe that this-one's genetics would promote such a connection. The events that occurred in this-one's office were the product of an unfulfilled Shan'hal'lak and the creation of the First Bond_."

" _This-one understands,"_ Astra says, unconsciously speaking back to him in Giidal'su, her own honeyed voice calm like water before a tsunami. _"What is this First Bond?"_

" _The First Bond is a linking of minds of a pair to be mated,_ " Khai answers immediately, following his body's commands to step towards his mate. _"This-one apologizes for not explaining this earlier, t'hy'la._ "

 _Mated?_ Astra would have to think more about that – she felt _something_ for the Commander, of course, but the way he spoke sounded so final. _"If this First Bond was created, then why was your absence felt?"_

His lips twitch slightly, pulling down at the corners – he didn't want to answer this question, but he would, for her. He takes another step closer, tentative. _"This-one was in denial. T'hy'la, you have this-one's grief for this-one's mistakes. This-one requests forgiveness."_

 _Forgiveness. There's that word again_.

Astra observes his slow approach with a touch of amusement; he didn't seem to be able to control himself, something which she found flattering. Her amusement doesn't tame her curiosity though, even as her ire begins to melt away – Mari'Ahlice had been right in her premonition, it seemed, as forgiveness was coming much easier than violence had. She could sense that he still felt guilty for leaving her and she decided, quite ruthlessly, that he should.

Khai steps into her personal space again, making no other moves to initiate body contact. She wasn't backed into a wall this time and his eyes were a calm turquoise-tinged-steel instead of black; she felt safe and knew that she could leave at any time.

If she wanted to. Did she want to?

" _T'hy'la_ ," he murmurs.

Astra looks up at him, her speech switching back into Standard. "What does that mean? I've never heard it before."

Khai's ears heat up the lightest purple, though his gaze remains steady, his face coolly blank. "It means Soulmate. You are my _t'hy'la_."

Her heart thunders in her chest. There was no mistaking _that_ as a confession. The pain between her temples flares again, blindingly sharp, and her hands come up to her forehead as she flinches, cringes away from the low lights of the training room.

Large, warm hands pressed over hers. Astra hears a low masculine gasp a second before she is pulled against his solid chest. For a second, she thinks about pushing him away, but his strength, his spicy scent, feels so _comforting_ , so _right_ , that she melts against him instead, one of her hands moving to grip the stiff coat of his uniform, wrinkling it.

Khai presses his fingers to her exposed temple and – even without creating a formal link – he can feel the acute pain through their silver chain. He adjusts his fingers, gently opening a link between their minds, sending his _hayal_ , his innate calm towards his suffering _t'hy'la_ , though he had little to spare due to the lurking shadow in his mind that was causing him a mild amount of distress. The sacrifice was more than deserved.

Astra exhales softly when she feels the slow intrusion into her mind and, feeling so tired suddenly, weakly taps the hand on her face. "What are you doing?"

 _You are unwell_ , he answers in her mind _. Sickness from a strained bond has injured your mind._

_You did this to me?_

_It was not my intention,_ he says very softly, deep voice nothing but a whisper, a soft caress over the frayed edges of her mind. _You have my deepest regrets._

The persistent headache eases by tiny increments and, once Astra is able to think clearly for the first time in two weeks, she directs her thoughts towards Khai; unused to communicating in this way, she _pushes_ the thought towards him with enough force that he recoils a little. _Why did you leave?_

_I…was convinced that my absence would be beneficial to your health and my own. I attacked you in my office and put both of our careers at risk. The emotional compromise was abnormal for me – however, upon reflection, I have ascertained a pattern of compromises I am willing to make for you, illogical as they may be._

_Do you think you attacked me?_ Astra inquires softly, this time barely pushing the thought forward, pleased when Khai's mind seems to reach for it. The connection between them was fully open again, like it had been on that day, and she was fully ensconced in his steel mind, her own white mindscape behind her; she felt so comfortable in this place that did not belong to her and suspected it was because he welcomed her presence.

_I did attack you._

She is surprised by the conviction in his voice – he truly believed that his advances weren't wholly welcomed. Quite suddenly, his reasons for leaving became valid; she understood exactly why his answer was tinged with the barest amounts of shame and guilt.

 _Khai_ , she says, rooting through her memories, showing him how _she_ felt about what they had shared, even if she was confused by it. _I wanted that. I wanted you. I still do, even though I'm mad at you and hurt that you left_.

 _T'hy'la_ …

_What am I to you?_

Khai pushes away the swift shyness that threatens to overcome his detached façade. _You are, in the simplest of terms, my mate_ , he answers, mollifying the inky black creature prowling away in the back of his mind. Now that he is holding his lithe _t'hy'la_ against his chest, he feels no inclination towards abruptly falling beneath that shadowy, primal influence; in fact, with Astra's warm breath bleeding through his uniform, Khai experiences a level of unprecedented calm. He feels whole, more complete than he ever had in his entire life.

_And in specific terms?_

_I wish to fully bond with you, t'hy'la, mated for life with future promises of children and peace. To grow into my old age with your hand in mine is an image that haunts my most private dreams. I want everything._

Something stronger than warmth blossoms in Astra's mind, painting her mindscape a delicate lavender that seeped across their silver chain; the forgiveness that she had been idly struggling with comes instantaneously, shadowed only by the utter devotion the depths of her mind shows him. A strong presence guides her towards the silver mist-shrouded chain that connected their mindscapes and she touches it with gentle fingers, entranced by how deceptively strong the link is. _What is this?_

_Our bond. It is very strong…I did not think myself able to create such a link._

_Why?_

A tiny bloom of pain travels through the chain, making it known in Astra's mind. _I was created to be a superior being with no need for such connections. I had not anticipated the possibility of …_

 _Not being alone anymore?_ Astra finishes, reaching towards him both in her mindscape and in reality; her lips press against his cheek as her arms wrap tightly around his neck, her headache completely absent. _Oh, Khai,_ she says softly. She had no words that felt suitable enough to give him, not as she was exposed to the gaping pit of loneliness that had been part of his mind since he was born.

In response, Khai simply holds her tighter, burying his face in her neck, overcome with the tea-and-honey scent. He thought he might have felt embarrassment for showing her the weakness he constantly denied, but he felt strength in knowing that she accepted his flaws, his loneliness, and his sense of abandonment. And the exchange was not one-sided – Astra exposed the dark places of her mind with a freedom that was enviable, allowed him to see her poor sense of self-worth, the measures she went through to punish herself for things beyond her control. Truly, they were a well-made match; for all the flaws and missing pieces, they fit together quite well and helped soften the jagged pieces of their minds.

They complete each other in profound ways.

 _You'll never be alone again_ , Astra tells him tenderly, reaching for their silver chain, feeling the ghost of Khai's fingers against her temple. It was only fitting that she completes the Second Bond after he initiated the First.

They both watched as the links of their silver chain grew smaller, tighter, the length of the chain shrinking, pulling their mindscapes closer together. The mist thickened, now a pale lavender shade – the color signifying love in Giidas culture.

Astra is the first to pull away, gently pushing Khai's fingertips away from her temple, looking up at him with vivid lilac eyes, a color which was faintly reflected in his own gaze. She rocks onto the tips of her toes, using his shoulders as leverage, her lips brushing against his as a flash of heat washes over her through their bond. Their kiss is chaste in comparison to the one they previously shared, but no less passionate, as they separate with flushed face and brighter eyes.

Her hand traces the shell of his ear, enjoying the way she can _feel_ him shiver through the bond though his only physical reaction is a slight dilation of his pupils. "I might have forgiven you, Khai, but I will not forget," she says, her gaze direct with confidence she wouldn't have had seven weeks ago.

Khai understands the full consequences of what his absence had done to them both and solemnly nods. "I will endeavor to prove myself," he promises, sealing his words with a glide of his fingertips across her own, the sensitive telepathic nerves greedily absorbing his conviction.

Astra is sure that he will.


	27. Part 2: 5

**5**

_London, Terra, 2621_

On the second day after Astra completed the Second Bond and subsequently discovered that she could communicate with Khai over a distance – which was convenient given how busy they both tended to be – she wakes with a message on her pocket-com, informing her that Professor Khai has requested her to be his student aid. Again.

 _Is this not a conflict of interest?_ She asks him as she puts the device back down on her desk, right next to the crystals that Rosy had given her. She considers her half-built saber with a critical eye, mentally planning for spare time in which she could complete her weapon as she was rapidly running out of time.

Khai's side of the bond stirs in that cool, detached way he has – though, truthfully, Khai is not detached as he and the rest of the world would like to believe. Astra enjoyed his intense flares of passion, rare as they were, though he seemed to be rather miffed by them. _As Giidas, any personal connection we share is not of consequence to our duties_ , he answers smoothly. _We have the ability of compartmentalization._

 _Or, as Terrans call it, denial_.

_I believe you are mocking me, t'hy'la._

_You make it so easy, Commander_ , she teases, moving away from her desk and starting the sonic shower. The first time she had done this while speaking to Khai, she had felt startling amounts of embarrassment, lust, curiosity, and mortification pile on top of each other; it was only after he completely pulled away from their bond that Astra was able to realize that, while he could not _see_ her, he could get a sense of what she was doing as she shed her clothing. She'd flustered him, a thought which brought a wicked smile to his face. He made her promise never to undress while they were telepathically speaking, though he didn't say _why_.

Astra was astute enough to understand without an explanation.

Later, she had apologized and Khai had explained, in great detail, the research he had done on bonds between Giidas and the exact limitations – which were very few, the most notable being _distance_ – on Second Bonds. The only reason Astra was able to communicate with Khai at the moment was that the Commander was on campus.

_I suppose you'll want me in your office after lunch?_

Khai sends his approval through the bond before quickly closing up his end to give her privacy as she bathed – though, in all honesty, the _privacy_ afforded by the bond was more like a sheer curtain that one could turn their backs to. It really wasn't that private at all…not that either of them minded.

Astra enjoyed the company in her mind and knew Khai felt the same way. She learned so much about him constantly through bare snippets of imagery and half-thoughts; he didn't like tomatoes, though he would eat them without protest for their nutritional value; he did not enjoy the cold; he preferred black over blue though not over silver; he adored the vivid colors of her eyes. She suspected he learned much about her, as well, especially after he presented her with a caramel-dipped apple the day after he came back – it was a craving she'd briefly had and one that he had fulfilled, traveling out of his way to retrieve one before arriving on campus, throwing his entire day off by exactly three minutes and twenty-eight seconds.

The thought brings a smile to her face as she steps into the sonic shower; her time there is efficient and cleansing, waking her fully and bringing attention to the vague cramping of her abdomen. She frowns, pressing her hand below her belly button where a purplish-green bruise was forming – a gift from Ja'asper's intense training. While the bruise certainly smarted, the cramping pain seems to be coming from _inside_. She finishes her shower briskly, waiting for the sonic jets to dry the trace amounts of water from her skin, and seats herself on the toilet.

She stands.

Blood.

 _Alarm_ shoots through the bond, rousing Khai with a protective edge of black emotion. _T'hy'la?_ He demands, his mental voice sharp with tension.

Astra's mind is racing, her brows furrowing. This had never happened to her before and, truthfully, she was rather uneducated about the way her body worked; Nanini had passed on before she hit puberty and she never dared to stay in one place for too long when her body began growing in curious ways, widening in places, curves mounting. From what she had gathered through her travels, all Terran women went through some sort of ordeal and she had assumed that the relative malnutrition that her life as a gypsy provided had saved her from whatever it was the women suffered from. She had the vaguest notion that what was happening to her body _now_ was normal.

_Astra._

_Oh…I believe I need to visit the infirmary._

Khai's side of the bond explodes with intense concern and she can almost _feel_ him exploring her metabolic functions. _What is wrong? Are you in need of assistance?_

Astra shakes her head before remembering that he can't see her. _No. I'm fine. I just need to speak with a nurse._

_You were frightened._

_Surprised_ , she corrects gently _. But I'm fine._

He is silent, barely placated; she gets the impression that he is vigil over her mind and their bond, waiting for some clue as to what is wrong. She finds his mind fascinating – his brain is able to be aware of _everything_ all at one time and he can access any memory from any point in time instantly. In many ways, his mind is more mechanic than organic, though not necessarily when it comes to _her_.

She dresses quickly in chocolate brown weighted pants and a bright white tank top with a built-in plated protector over her middle, her eyes darting to the row of dresses hanging in her narrow closet. She hadn't worn a dress in so long and found that she missed them – Astra had the fleeting thought that perhaps her commissioned uniform might be a dress since female officers were allowed to choose between skirts and pants. She figured the possibility of serving in a dress were slim, though; her legs would be vulnerable given her choice of cauterizing weaponry.

A short dark brown cloak is thrown over her shoulders, her pocket-com snug in the interior pocket as she quickly exits her room; neither roommate is present, though that is unsurprising as Rosy had been waking earlier for quiet time in the engineering labs and Mari'Ahlice had been praying to her Gods at odd hours of the night. Astra flips her hood up as she jots down the stairs of her dorm, absently noting that her nails had become tipped with silver rather than completely dusted – another physiological change that she didn't understand.

It had been happening over the past two months, ever since she found out she was half-Giidas. Little things at first, like a sharper memory and extra shine to her hair, and later, slightly sharper teeth, additional muscle memory, and a bit of a point to the tip of her ear. But then, she had scraped her elbow during training and her blood had looked more purple than red; and just now, the blood she'd seen was almost completely purple. She wasn't sure what to make of that, really. Was her body pushing out the human half of her or was this some sort of late-blooming puberty? It had occurred to her to research Giidas biology, but everything she found was filled with vague notations given how secretive Giidas were; she could find nothing concrete. Carl wasn't helpful, either, as none of his medical texts on xenobiology specified Giidas maturity.

 _Giidas mature later than Terrans_.

Astra quirks a brow at Khai's sudden input – she must have been projecting without realizing it. _How much later?_

_Four to five years average._

She sighs, dates and numbers clicking in her mind as she dodges past hurried cadets before slinking into the infirmary. How inconvenient for her to have _two_ puberties – at least the changes in her body had an explanation, though she was still concerned about the…bleeding.

Nurse Esmeralda is seated behind the reception desk, flipping through holo-files, and greets Astra with a familiar smile, murky green eyes briefly scanning over the hybrid's body for any obvious injuries. "If it isn't our favorite patient," she teases, standing, hand reaching for the sleek blue button to summon Doctor Carl. "He's just arrived not ten minutes ago-"

"Actually," Astra quickly interrupts, feeling heat rise to her face, wondering if her blush is lilac like Khai's now instead of rosy pink. "Could…I mean, I don't think Carl is…"

Esme draws her hand away from the button and steps around the desk. "Something that requires a woman, then?"

Astra nods. She wasn't one to be embarrassed easily, but _this_ was unprecedented and it didn't help that Khai was on the other side of the bond, _helpfully_ easing her mortification, though his awareness of what was happening only made the situation more humiliating. At this half-thought, he pulls back a little, much to her relief.

"I'm no doctor," Nurse Esme says, leading Astra to one of the small glass-walled examination rooms. "But I do pretty well with other things."

Astra sits on a smooth steel table, feet dangling off the side, a hand absently rubbing at the cramping ache beneath her belly button. "This has never happened to me before," she says. "I'm not exactly sure what it is, either. Gypsy…you know? Never really stayed in one place long enough…and Carl says that my weight is just now healthy…I'm not dying, am I?"

Esme smiles gently. "Could you explain a bit more?"

Astra looks away, down, back to Esme. "There's…. _bleeding_. And cramping."

Nurse Esme pauses, a slight furrow to her brow. She immediately understood what Astra was alluding to but wasn't quite able to grasp the concept of a seventeen-year-old girl never having a menstrual cycle before – though, of course, it made sense if she factored in the fact that this girl, in particular, was a hybrid. Her expression smoothes into compassion as she pats Astra's forearm, a motherly emotion blooming in her chest. "I assure you, this is completely normal. It's a sign of fertility."

Khai's side of the bond instantly explodes with rapid thought and possessive emotion that Astra can't quite decipher – he thinks so much more quickly than she is able to read. She is only able to understand half a thought before he moves on to another unless he is directly communicating with her. … _Giidas puberty…indicative of fertility…mating…Second Bond producing more estrogen…evolutionary development …fully developed psi-skills…diverted stress chemicals…._

She shakes her head, pushing his thoughts away gently, able to comprehend the majority of his postulations – according to Giidas biology, she had entered puberty, both physically and telepathically, and was now fertile. The rest of the details were nonsensical to her and she promptly ignored them in favor of turning her attention to Esme. "I'm not dying, then?"

"Far from it. Here, I'll Replicate some supplies you might find helpful," Esme replies, inputting the information into the sleek machine. "Do you have any questions?"

"One," Astra replies. "How often will this happen to me?"

Nurse Esme laughs, gathering the Replicated supplies into a discreet black bag. "For Terran females, this happens once a month on average. I'm not sure how often this happens to Giidas females, though, so I can't be sure how often you will experience this."

Astra sighs, taking the bag from the nurse, sliding off the examination table. "I expected as much. Hopefully, I won't have to deal with this during the Simulation tests."

Esme raises her brows. "I hadn't thought of that. Those begin on Friday, right?"

Across the bond, Astra gets the impression that Khai is… _disgruntled_ by the fact that she had to participate in these qualifications. She smiles slightly. _That's incredibly illogical_ , she tells him.

 _I am aware of this, t'hy'la_ , he says, his tone rather perturbed.

"I'm ready for them," Astra says aloud, to assure both Esme and Khai. And while Esme's expression smoothes out, Khai's side of the bond remains unsettled. _I am. Ja'asper has trained me to be ready for anything._

That thought was proven much later in the day as Astra takes a break from Ja'asper's intense brand of training. She leans over, hands on her knees, until Ja'asper barks at her to correct her posture. She grumbles at him, "I should kill you."

He raises a metal-glinting brow. "You certainly can't kill me in this gravity," he tells her, moving over to the wall and punching in a series of codes.

The room was little known in the Academy, usually reserved for already commissioned officers; the only reason Ja'asper was able to score time in the gravity manipulation chamber was that he was Sergeant Dmitri's aid and he had certain privileges that he wasn't hesitant to take advantage of. The design of the room was peculiar, made entirely out of steel, the floors softened just barely by thin mats. Ja'asper finishes the sequence on the wall, listening to the creeping hiss behind the walls as the gravity in the room returns back to Terran levels, though his body missed the heavy density of the gravity he had grown up with.

Astra stands easier as the gravity in the room levels out and shoots Ja'asper a dubious look. "That's really the gravity on Me'atal?"

He smiles smugly. "Impressive, isn't it? We have the highest gravitational density in the Federation. Our scientists believe this is why we evolved to have metal in our bones."

"To withstand the gravity," Astra nods, her muscles twitching after the difficult spar. It was much harder to move in higher gravities and she had to put more effort into using her body at all; everything was heavier, including her weighted pants. She knew, without a doubt, that it would be something of a miracle to get out of her gel-bed in the morning. And while Astra had struggled to adapt, Ja'asper had been graceful and deadly and she understood the preferred Me'atal fighting technique much better – they utilized quick, ruthless strikes to preserve energy. She was completely spent from fifteen minutes in the Me'atal gravity, could not imagine what _living_ on the planet might be like. "Are we done for the day?"

Ja'asper turns back to the wall, inputting another code. "Not even close. Now, we're going to do low gravity."

"The Terran moon?"

He shakes his head. "The Piarix twin moons have far less gravity than this moon."

Astra had assumed that moving in low gravity would have been easier – but in many ways, it was harder. While higher gravities made her movements slower, she was at least accurate; lower gravities were _too_ easy to move in and her movements frequently caused her to overshoot her target. After missing several hits that should have been easy to manage, Astra was able to adapt to the requirements of the low density, learning control of her body, which felt far too light and fast.

Ja'asper stops them once another fifteen minutes has passed and inputs another code into the wall while Astra shook her limbs loosely, keeping her heart rate up. "The program is going to randomly change gravities in thirty-second rotations," he tells her. "Then it will repeat a random pattern of random gravities for five-minute intervals."

Astra nods. She understood the motivation behind this kind of training, challenging as it was – she needed to be able to fight under any circumstances and sometimes the gravity on starships malfunctioned. This was all about conditioning. Astra and Ja'asper stand across from each other, eyes closed as they concentrate on the varying levels of gravity; she often relies on her stomach to tell her if the gravity shifts low and depends on the weight of her shoulders to indicate a higher gravity.

Ja'asper's attack is out of nowhere when the gravity is relatively Terran again and she dodges his hit before launching her own offense; the gravity shifts too low too quickly and they both sail past each other before spinning and correcting muscle responses; she is slightly slower in the high gravity and tends towards defense, finding it easier to block and duck than attack. After an hour has passed, the program returns the gravity back to Terran density and Astra's body is protesting, muscles shaking, sweat coating her hairline, dripping down her neck – and Ja'asper is no better.

"Brilliant idea," she gasps out, huffing a breath that blows the fringe off her forehead.

"At the time, I thought it was."

She tilts her head back, exhausted. She couldn't deny that it was a good idea in theory, but… "Next time, not so much in one day."

"Agreed."

***N*O*V*A***

_T'hy'la._

_Khai._

_I must temporarily close my side of the bond in order to preserve the integrity of the Simulation Exams._

Astra pauses her movements, hands falling away from adjusting the silvery weighted belt hanging loosely from her hips. The idea of completely closing the connection while he was still on campus and the distance between his home and her dorm didn't interfere with the bond was unsettling to her, an uncomfortable roll of emotion in her chest. She didn't like it even though she could acknowledge the logic behind his motivations – often times, they each transmitted half-thoughts without even realizing it. Astra didn't want to cheat, not even accidentally, so she braces herself, closing her eyes. _It won't hurt, will it?_

His side of the bond carries an apologetic flavor. _It will be as if I am at my residence and you are at your own._

That wasn't a feeling she was fond of either, but she would endure it; they had both agreed, silently as no words were truly needed, that their careers would not be compromised for their relationship. Khai was right – logically, being Giidas, their bond shouldn't even factor into their jobs.

She braces herself as Khai gently pinches the bond, their silver chain pulled taut as foggy mist grows thicker over their connection. When she can't _feel_ him anymore, she resumes her movements with a single-minded tenacity, tightening her belt, bending to tuck her skin-tight white pants, which were made with reinforced leather-like material, into flat-heeled ankle-high grey boots. The fabric tight against her legs was an odd feeling after wearing pants that were entirely too loose for several months, but she had dressed this way deliberately, choosing the most utilitarian clothing from her Replicator. Her shirt was short-sleeved, white, a high, loose turtle-collar, the hard metal of the chest protector built between the layers of fabric, with strips of metal peeking over the capped shoulders and the side stitching. The silvery belt was thick and wide, slanting over her hips, hiding compartments of dried food and water capsules, emergency tools, and rudimentary medic supplies, along with her pocket com. The white cloak was hemmed to her hips, made with less fabric than most, heavy yet made from breathable fabric, the hood deep, the silver button over her right shoulder clasping the front together; the slim pockets carried a pair of gloves the color of her boots.

Despite what Khai may have anticipated, she was in the dark on what the Simulation Exams might involve – she suspected the only reason he suggested closing the bond was that he was about to receive the details himself. Simulation Exams were curious tests that were kept completely secret from both staff and cadets until the day of the tests when the instructions were passed down directly from the Admiralty. The only clue cadets had was to be dressed for any possible environment or situation; Astra thought she was well prepared.

She meets Mari'Ahlice and Rosy in their living room. Ahlice is dressed in a subdued dusty pink jumpsuit with a square collar and short sleeves, her rose-quartz eyes wide and sparkling, secrets of the future flashing through her knowing gaze, a thin case strapped onto her back that likely held delicate electronics. Rosy's clothing was geared more towards engineering, her mocha brown pants both tight and riddled with various zippers and pockets, her shoes heavy with metal magnets designed to maintain her position even if the room turned upside down, and her hair tied into a high bun. Both look excited, more so than Astra; she supposed they had been anticipating this day for three years, whereas she had only just heard about it last month.

"Many futures will be decided today," Ahlice announces with a demure smile, fingers absently tracing the bells and silver balls attached to the circlet on her head.

"Even I could have told her that," Rosy says by way of greeting. "That's what you're wearing?"

"I like white."

"No, I mean-"

" _Always trust white, Astra,"_ Ahlice interrupts, her eyes slightly glazed. _"The ones in white are like you."_

A chill shoots up Astra's spine in response to the words spoken in Prix'arie – that was an omen if she had ever heard one. She didn't know what it meant or how immediate the warning was, but she stored it away in her memory, a wave an anxiety washing over her skin.

Mari'Ahlice seems to come into her own mind again and smiles serenely at her roommates, though both Rosy and Astra seem to be mildly concerned. "I believe we should dine with the other cadets in the cafeteria."

Rosy jumps on the suggestion, nodding eagerly, unsure of the sudden tension permeating the room. "We should fuel up," she agrees quickly.

Their small group ends up eating a hearty breakfast with I'rii'na and several other cadets while the sun rises over the Academy. The mood in the mess hall is peculiar – half buzzing with excitement, half moaning with dread. Astra's own feelings about the day are lost in her hunger as she fills her stomach with nuts and berries, fruits, yogurts, and eggs, packing as many carbohydrates and protein into her meal as possible for the energy; she wasn't sure when she would be eating again. Towards the end of the hour, the table quiets down into individual contemplation as the cadets await the correct time to gather in the courtyard.

At exactly six o'clock, every third-year cadet at the Academy is lined up, separated by graduation tracks, hands flat at their sides. Astra's eyes find the cool steel-tones of Khai's and she has the thought that it is extremely disorienting to see him but be unable to _feel_ him through the bond. He does not acknowledge her by any other way than allowing his blank gaze to settle on her face twice.

"At ease, Cadets," an imposing figure commands, his voice amplified by a tiny microphone on his ear. "I am Admiral Aro of the Federation. This year's Simulation Exams were designed by me in order to separate the weak from the strong. To make it clear, your performance in these tests will determine your commissioned ranks, as well as your graduation progress. If you fail or if your performance is lacking in any way, you will risk consequences such as being assigned as a janitor here next year. Any indication of cheating automatically results in suspension and discharge from your rank – am I understood?"

"Sir!"

Admiral Aro, a Terran with black hair slicked back and a cold, pale face, offers a smile, just the barest twitch of his lips. "As you might have noticed, you have been divided into specific categories. There will be three stages of these Simulation Exams. First, along with your own graduation track, you will be tested in your specialty; the next test will be one of physical preparedness; and the third will separate cadets into groups of ten that will be transported to an undisclosed location in order to test for survival and strategy skills against another group." He pauses, eying the cadets with a superior tilt of his head. "In all of these tests, your speed will determine how fast you advance and in which group you will be divided into. The goal, cadets, is to be both the best and the fastest. Professors, if you will please guide your cadets to the assigned labs, the first Simulation Exam will begin in five minutes. Dismissed."

Professor Khai, dressed in the proper charcoal uniform, steps in front of the xenolinguist group, hands behind his back. He says nothing as he tilts his head and turns away, indicating that the cadets should follow him; in fact, the first and only words he says happen before the exam, right after all cadets have been settled into communication stations, micro-earphones clipped to their ears. "Begin," he commands, standing stoically in the middle of the room and forcing his eyes to remain on a neutral spot on the wall instead of the back of his _t'hy'la's_ head.

It comes as no surprise to Astra that the examination for xenolinguist cadets is auditory by design; sitting at a communications desk on a bridge is what most of them were pursuing, so of course, their exam would be the most conceivably complicated example of their future careers. Astra was thrown for a few seconds when the exam begins, her mind attempting to translate a dozen frequencies in a dozen random languages. Certainly, it would have been a challenge for anyone else, but Astra was able to tune into the most distressing hails – which she logged immediately, as she would do on the bridge of a starship – before deciphering the monotone commands from planets or the Federation itself. Unlike other cadets, she felt no need to frantically tap her com unit as she moved through alien messages; she moved calmly, with precision, and finished the examination in less than five minutes.

She feels his physical presence before he tenderly brushes the top of her shoulder to get her attention. "If you have completed the examination, Cadet, you may progress to the next stage. Orders will be received outside of this room," Khai intones, voice slow and quiet so as not to distract the other cadets. Astra smiles at him, sending a surge of warmth through their bond, which is received and returned before the bond is tightly closed again.

Astra stands, pushing the chair of her station back beneath the desk silently, studiously ignoring the incredulous stare of the cadets seated next to her; she also ignores the expression on the face of the Ensign assigned to guide cadets to the next phase of the Simulations. For a moment, she wonders if she should have held back at least slightly – after all, it was a bit _too_ impressive to finish a complicated task such as that so quickly. But she was competitive, more competitive than she had ever been while traveling the world with her li'lute.

Then again, before then, the only competition she ever participated in was who would run faster – her or the person chasing her.

To Astra's relief – and amusement – a handful of other cadets are waiting at the gravity chamber she and Ja'asper had used earlier in the week and only a few were unfamiliar faces. She wasn't surprised that Rosy and Ja'asper had easily completed the first phase. But she was surprised to see Doctor Carl waiting with them, his face nearly surly as he taps his feet against the floor in the three-fourths pattern he preferred.

"I didn't know you were participating in this," she says immediately.

Fair blond brows furrow as the doctor scowls. "Technically, I'm a cadet, too."

"But, you're a doctor."

"Work-study program."

"What about Nurse Esme?"

A faint blush blooms on Carl's face at the mention of the green-eyed woman. "She's already graduated."

"Oh." Astra notices a smattering of bright red blood on Carl's white shirt. "What did they have you do?"

"What?" Carl asks, his gaze following Astra's. "Oh. Don't worry, nobody died. That's synthetic blood."

"I didn't think you _killed_ anyone, Carl."

"Good. That would go against my oath," he muses, shifting his weight onto his other leg, still _tap, tap, tapping_.

Another few cadets enter the gravity chamber, a chill shooting down Astra's spine as she identify Felix's beefy build among them. Ja'asper sidles up beside her, nodding his head in Felix's direction. "Surprised he made it so far."

"Why? I thought you said he was apt."

"At interrogating," Ja'asper agrees. "But he's in the Tactician track and our exam was a trick question, a no-win scenario."

Astra raises her brows. "Then how did you pass?"

Ja'asper smirks. "I'm _Me'atal._ We don't _do_ no-win scenarios."

Before Astra can reply, Mari'Ahlice enters the chamber with a graceful, almost dance-like walk, a serene smile on her face as she stops in front of Ja'asper. "I have waited far too long."

Ja'asper blinks, icy blue eyes gazing at the silver circlet that he _knew_ belonged on the head of Piarix royalty. "I'm sorry?"

Ahlice's rose-quartz eyes are warm. "It will be better if you travel the room diagonally."

"What?"

"Rosy," Ahlice greets, turning away from Ja'asper's baffled expression. "Your choice in footwear is very wise."

Rosy taps the toes of her boots together. "I like them."

"Alright, cadets," Sergeant Dmitri greets gruffly. "You all finished your exams in under fifteen minutes, which means you're in first place. Congratulations. You now have two minutes to get from this side of the room to the exit."

Astra's first thought is that this phase was too easy. The room wasn't fifty feet long – getting to the exit could be done in thirty _seconds_. But then, Sergeant Dmitri moves past them, directing each of the cadets to stand on the farthest wall from the exit, and she hears the heavy clunk of his boots. Her eyes dart down.

_Gravity boots, just like Rosy's – but a better version. Sturdier._

Sergeant Dmitri plants himself in the middle of the cadets, facing them. "No cheating," he says seriously, before a wide, almost sadistic smile spreads across his face. "But anything goes."

And then, the gravity in the room shuts down.

Completely.

Astra's stomach lurches as her body feels weightless, her feet drifting from the floor. Sergeant Dmitri remains rooted to the ground, along with Rosy, who has immediately stepped forward with single-minded determination.

She looks to her right; Ja'asper, who had been standing against the far wall, pushes off the corner, shooting over Rosy's head, connecting against the slick steel wall, halfway through the room already. Mari'Ahlice's own movements are more graceful as she gently pushes herself from the wall, floating in the middle of the room near the floor, stomach down.

 _This is certainly a challenge_ , Astra thinks as she begins to brace one foot against the wall. She stops when she hears a familiar low beep and immediately straightens her feet, locking her muscles just as dense gravity returns to the room.

Her body is already conditioned for this, and she moves just as easily – and quickly – as Ja'asper, passing Mari'Ahlice, who had simply rearranged her limbs into a sitting position, and Rosy, who struggled to move her heavy boots.

Astra hadn't accounted for Felix. Perhaps she should have.

The hit is heavier in this gravity, landing between her shoulder blades, thankfully missing her spine. She gasps, turns around and-

The gravity changes again, this time low, like that of a moon's gravity. The change does not stop Astra's retaliation, though, as she aims a kick at Felix's head. He grabs her ankle and throws her against the wall; her head connects with the steel, and she closes her eyes for a moment. When they open again, Felix has turned to Mari'Ahlice, who has remained seated on the lightly matted floor.

Astra's eyes widen in horror as Felix throws his body weight into a hit that…is blocked by Ja'asper. She'd never seen the Me'atals face as anything but detached and sardonic, but _now_ , there was a cold fury that made Astra fear Ja'asper for the first time. The punch Ja'asper delivered snapped Felix's head to the side with a distinctive _crack_ as if a jaw had just been broken. "You're such an asshole," he tells Felix, who had flown into the wall beside Astra from a well-delivered kick from Ja'asper.

"I agree," she says, ignoring the throb on the side of her head as she attacks Felix with a flurry of limbs while he cannot attack back, stopping when he is unconscious and the blood from his broken nose is floating in the light gravity.

"Thirty seconds," Sergeant Dmitri announces with amusement as the gravity changes to zero again.

Astra scowls. She is annoyed that Felix had pulled such a stupid stunt, especially in the middle of such an important time. With a sigh, she pushes off from the wall with power, speeding to the exit of the room with agile grace, her hand connecting with the door, her body already apt at adjusting to gravities.

When the exam ends, only two cadets remain in the middle of the room, and they are all released from the room. Carl had finished after Astra by sticking to the side walls; Mari'Ahlice's method of simply waiting for lighter gravities finished her in third place, with Ja'asper right behind her; Rosy's no-nonsense approach awarded her fifth place and she grumbled about double-edged assets while the group of cadets waited for further instruction.

***N*O*V*A***

"What do you know about me?" Ja'asper demands, unnerved by the beautiful creature before him; she had _known_ what was going to happen in the gravity chamber and, by the way she looked at him, she knew something about him. Ja'asper didn't like that.

Mari'Ahlice studies the angular, metal-laced man standing before her, crowding her space, subtly secluding them from the rest of the waiting cadets. His face was one she knew well, but she hadn't been prepared for his overwhelming presence.

_Ja'asper Whii't'locke. My mate._

Her earliest memories included his face through the visions her Gods sent her.

Ahlice's seer abilities were particularly strong; she began to manifest precognitions by her thirteenth sun rotation before she was truly able to understand the gravity of what she was seeing. The Gods had smiled down on her life – through her youngest years, as she developed from a baby to a child to an adult, Ahlice was blessed with Sight. The Sight was – and is – the most coveted ability of the Piarie people as it was the ability to seer without prayer. It was thought that those with Sight were the closest to the Gods, chosen for a specific purpose.

Ahlice's purpose began with Ja'asper.

In her childhood, she dreamed of his face, of his harsh training, and his family. She followed the progress of his life diligently, eagerly, growing more infatuated with him by the day, knowing that _he_ was her destiny. Ja'asper was five years older than Ahlice and his life showed her the realities of their universe before the Princess of Piarix was truly ready, a fact that Mari'Ahlice came to appreciate greatly. By the time Ja'asper had served his time in the Me'atal military, Ahlice had already applied to the Federation Academy, using her family name to secure her placement in the London school, just as she had Seen several years before then.

It was a special kind of torture to know that her mate lived not two floors beneath her room and _knowing_ that it was not yet time to meet him.

 _A butterfly flaps its wings and the earth shakes on the other side of the globe._ This was the mantra that Ahlice repeated late into the night, knowing that bidding her time was the best way to meet fate.

Today, she had woken up especially eager, having Seen that _today was the day_. He had protected her, just as she had Seen, from the brute Felix. And now her mate was standing in front of her, pale and silver, white-blond hair tousled, eyes bluer than glacial ice, metal tattoo etchings peeking around the collar of his shirt.

"Everything," she answers tenderly. "I am aware of everything about you."

Ja'asper's body freezes in the way only a Me'atals can – a dangerous stillness. A warning. His eyes flash, again darting to the silver circlet on the short girl's head. And she _was_ a girl, no more than a graceful slip of a thing, with snowy pale skin, dark magenta hair, and fathomless, wide rose-quartz eyes that just _cut_ through his very being. He believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that this girl knew everything about him.

The question was _why_.

"You're a princess," he says. It's not a question.

Her lower lip pokes out just the tiniest bit. "I am not," she insists. "I renounced my title to follow destiny."

"Destiny," Ja'asper repeats flatly. "You talk in circles."

"If circles could talk…"

He steps closer, his sheer mass compared to hers forcing Ahlice to step back against the wall. None of the other cadets pay them any mind – Carl is busy fretting over Astra's minor injuries, and Rosy finishing her witness account of what happened in the gravity chamber. Felix lay on a stretcher, unconscious.

"I want _you_ to talk," he says forcefully, face taut with tension. At the core of his being, something was _melting_ for this girl. He wanted her and he didn't know what to do about it.

Mari'Ahlice senses his frustration and her face clears of all mirth, a change in expression so sudden that Ja'asper rears his head back in surprise. "You are my destiny, Ja'asper Whii't'locke."

Me'atals are known for their strength, not for their minds, but Ja'asper was far from stupid. "You gave up your throne for me."

"Indeed."

He didn't know how to feel about that. Flattered? From what he knew of Piaries, he guessed at this girl must have seen something specific about _them_ – something with enough weight to make her give up her birthright just to follow him, a measly and expendable solider. She had said destiny. Was that it? He couldn't deny the heat inside him as he breathed in her scent, which was free of all metals – he liked that. She smelled fresh, a little fruity; _pink_ , womanly, not like the females of his planet, who carried the scent of cold steel.

He liked _her_. Me'atals don't deny their own feelings.

Ja'asper nods to himself, focusing his gaze back on Mari'Ahlice, the former Princess. "Now what?"

A serene smile blooms on her face and Mari'Ahlice reaches forward with one finger, which glowed a soft pink. "May I?"

Ja'asper tilts his head down, bracing himself for the contact. Her finger is warm as it touches the center of his forehead – and then it is burning and he is _seeing fate, destiny, life, love, kisses, sunshine in the morning, shared quarters, children with her pink eyes and his metal joints, an exploding star, panic, despair, recovery, Eden, Eden, their place that she will make, gasping breaths, his own groans, ecstasy, love, life, fate, fate, fate…_

"Now, we allow fate to lead us."

***N*O*V*A***

"Carl. Carl, I'm _fine_."

"The protrusion on the lateral-"

"It's a bump. I'm not dizzy. I can stand," Astra tells him, pushing his hands away as Carl scowls at her. "Honestly, I think Felix is in worse shape."

"He deserved it."

Rosy snorts, glancing at the doctor. "Personal medic slash, what? Big brother?"

"Sounds about right," Astra confirms with a grin. She stands steadily, forcing herself to stay straight, blinking away the black spots in her vision. She would never admit it, but her head did hurt and she was still angry with Felix, despite the fact that he looked to have gotten the worse end of their altercation. She was _glad_ he was both unconscious and automatically on suspension from his unsolicited attacks in the gravity chamber.

It isn't long at all until another two groups have passed through the gravity chamber; Astra assumes that the fourth group to pass through was the end of the _mediocre_ cadets. She didn't think another group would be arriving for a while, which is why she isn't surprised when Admiral Aro enters the open area, hands clasped behind his back, smiling with an air of authority. "Well done, cadets, for those of you who are here. The other half of your classmates are disappointing, to say in the least. Now," he smiles, again with a sadistic gleam that makes Astra wary. "You will be separated into groups of ten, one cadet from each specialty. The Professor in charge of guiding you to the proper location will alert you to the rest of the details of the third phase. Good luck."

Now that Astra's mind had adopted the quick thoughts of a Giidas, she was easily able to discern the first four members of her group. Just as she had predicted, she, Rosy, Carl, Mari'Ahlice, and Ja'asper were drawn to the far side of the room by Sergeant Dmitri – it was logical, given their high ranks and speed in the previous two phases. Five other cadets, two of which were also in the gravity chamber with Astra, are also added to the group and they each await instruction with alert wariness.

"The name of the game is Capture the Flag," Sergeant Dmitri confesses. "Another group of cadets will be transported to your location. Get their flag first and you win. Don't assume this will be easy, though," he warns. "This is a game of strategy. Play it wisely."

As Astra is leaving campus on the sleek black shuttle with a built-in transporter, which was preset to take them to their assigned location, she resists the urge to reach out to Khai through their bond, as if saying good-bye. She couldn't afford the distraction, especially not when she was busy sizing up her group members.

Carl, the medic, appeared positively _green_ as the shuttle rose from the ground, and his tapping increased to an unprecedented level, along with the irritable glares he threw at everyone as he clutched his new medic-bag to his chest. Rosy appeared completely relaxed, lounging back in her chair after doing a final check of the tools hidden in her pockets. Mari'Ahlice, who was acting as navigator, which was her primary major, sat regally behind the shuttle controls, monitoring the holo-map readout; beside her, the dark-skinned pilot with a kind face, Ty, studied the autopilot controls, hands running over the wheel; over Ahlice's shoulder, Ja'asper also watched the holo-map, ready to prepare a tactical plan as soon as their location was revealed. Astra was seated next to a serious-faced, soft indigo Twi'lek named S'heth, who would be acting as the science officer, and who had confessed to not being an outdoorsman, but who had also finished with Astra's group in the gravity chamber. A pretty Falleen with finely polished scales that faded from ruby to tan named Heidi was configuring her pocket-com to synch up with the shuttle's location device, the only thing she _could_ do at the moment as the computer technician. And then, the lithe, willowy, androgynous Leumians Amun and Kebi; Amun's clay-colored skin and iridescent hazel eyes made him look positively lethal, which was fitting for a security cadet, while Kebi's snow-pale skin and green eyes were set in the peaceful visage of a diplomat.

Astra was confident in the abilities of her teammates – and her own abilities, though she wasn't sure how her xenolinguist skills might be used in this situation. She suspected that this game, this third phase, was more about survival and teamwork than the actual use of skills; more likely than not, her physical abilities were about to be tested again.

"Transporting in five," Mari'Ahlice announces, her voice wafting through the shuttle from the cockpit. "Four, three, two, one-"

S'heth and Carl grimace as the shuttle vibrates into air-thin transparency for a few seconds; Kebi appears fascinated, her hand on Amun's as if in after-thought. Astra pushes away the uncomfortable feeling of intangibility and untangles from her seat, standing to peer out of the narrow shuttle windows to assess their location.

 _Rocky_ , is her first impression. _An island of some sort_.

"We're still on Terra," Mari'Ahlice tells the group. "Far southern east hemisphere."

"And we're landing," Ty adds, hands on the steering device in case the autopilot failed.

Astra watched silently as they drew closer to the rocky land, observing the high cliffs and the low stream surrounded by exotic, lush vegetation with shrewd intelligence. This land was familiar to her, similar to something she had seen and lived in before when she was very young, when Nanini was still alive. She would bet their group was stranded on one of the Australian continent's abandoned islands.

The first orders Ja'asper gave when the shuttle landed were logical – S'heth was to examine the near wild-life for anything potentially poisonous along with Mari'Ahlice, who was to find the location of their flag. Heidi and Rosy were to ready the shelter pods while Ty was to shut down the shuttle with a specialized password so only their team could use the transport. Astra and Kebi organized the standard supplies that were in the shuttle's back compartment while Amun and Ja'asper discussed watch shifts and guarded the shuttle outside. By the time S'heth and Ahlice returned, the supplies and shelter pods were ready for use, capsulated, and tucked into pockets.

The location of their flag was not far from where the shuttle had landed – perhaps a mile or less and settled into the dense collection of tropical trees, surrounded on three sides by pure water, facing a towering cliff that dropped directly into the sea. The shelter pods expanded from the size of an ancient Terran quarter to a black tent structure large enough for 10 gel-bed cots; Kebi wasted no time expanding the supply pods, which were separated into dried foods and water packets.

None of the cadets made a move to settle into their area, though. Ja'asper, being the only cadet trained in tactics and thus acting as the leader of the group, gathered them around their turquoise flag while Mari'Ahlice and Heidi set up a horizontal holo-screen that showed the entirety of their island. "Can you isolate the relative location of their flag?" he asked, his gaze lingering on Ahlice for only a second.

Heidi frowned. "Since our flag is neither using a cloaking device nor emitting a beacon, it would be difficult. The most I can do is search for the last location of their shuttle, but I have to assume that they have shut theirs down just as we did."

"Try anyway," he says immediately. "If we can triangulate the area into a mile radius, we can send out a retrieval party. S'heth? What of the native wildlife?"

S'heth straightens marginally. "Don't eat the purple berries."

"Yes, they seem to be durative of another mutated berry called _actaea pachypoda_ , which was eliminated several hundred years ago," Carl adds, twitching nervously when the group looks at him oddly. "I have various food allergies," he says by way of explanation.

"Right," Rosy rolls her eyes. "Look, I could probably rig up a magnetizer that would find a replicated alloy to the one used in our flag. It would take time, but…"

Ja'asper nods, jumping on the idea. "Start now. If computers can't help us, then we'll have to do the work manually. Harder, but much more impressive. Amun? I'll want you to guard the flag when the search party goes out. Kebi, you'll stay here as well, in case any negotiations need to be made, either with a native or the rival team. Astra, you'll come with the search party for the same reason – we might need a translation. Ty, when the search party goes out, I'll need you back at the shuttle and ready to transport us from their location – I don't want the other team to have any chance of catching us. Now, can everyone fuel up? Eat the carbohydrates first. We don't know how long we'll be here."

Rosy, being Zaintes, was able to breathe a small fire to keep insects away near the base of the flag, which burned strong and unnaturally yellow. By the time the team had finished eating the packets of dried oatmeal-based foods, the steadily growing feeling of unease in Astra's stomach was too much to ignore and a headache was beginning in her head. It was all too familiar to the month-long migraine that had just abated – and she speculated that perhaps the headache was starting because of the relative distance between her and Khai for the last several hours. The bond was straining. She could feel _that_ in her heart. Physical distance – and the hit to the head she sustained earlier - was making everything worse.

She stands at the same time Mari'Ahlice smiles at her with a knowing expression. "I need to meditate," she says aloud, though mostly to Ja'asper.

Kebi, who had been repacking the supplies, most likely for busywork, peered up at her curiously. "That is not a usual Terran activity."

"I'm not completely Terran," Astra shrugs, ducking into the quiet tent and settling onto the cot that was farthest from the entry, folding her legs up in the exact way Khai taught her.

Breathing deep, she falls into her mind, soothing out brainwaves and checking on the taut, strung-tight silver chain that was her bond to her _t'hy'la_. She couldn't feel him because of the limitations of the Second Bond, which was unsettling to her – so she falls deeper into the silver-white of her mind. Deeper. _Hayal_. Calm.

When Mari'Ahlice gently rouses Astra from her meditative state, a sense of determination is the power behind her strengthened posture and the flash of bright blue in her eyes. "It's time?"

" _Do not look before the jump,_ " Ahlice tells her.

Astra nods – not in understanding, but with heed.

Outside the tent, Heidi and Rosy are sharing victorious smiles, though Heidi appears slightly more menacing given her reptilian race. "I was able to triangulate the landing of their shuttle since those poor things forgot to turn off their location system for an entire hour," Heidi says gleefully.

"And I was able to make the alloy compass with a few spares that I keep with me at all times," Rosy smiles, holding out a rather crude rectangular piece of metal. "It's not pretty, but it works like a charm."

Ja'asper, very seriously, turns away from the flag to face his group. "Carl, S'heth, Rosy, Astra, and Ahlice – you guys are with me. Heidi, I want you to monitor our progress and be ready to relay the pick-up message to Ty in the shuttle. Amun?"

The tall Leumian nods. "The camp will be secure. All will go according to plan."

Ja'asper looks to Carl and S'heth. "You have everything we might need for an emergency?"

Nervously, Carl taps the side of his slim medical bag twice and S'heth nods with a faint smile, tugging at one of his indigo hair-tails.

"Then let's move out."

Mari'Ahlice leads them out of the dense underbrush of tropical vegetation with confidence; knowing Ahlice, she'd probably _seen_ exactly where to go and what to do already. Ja'asper is also in the lead, with Rosy following close behind as Ahlice navigates through the thin rocky land that connected the larger island to the slightly smaller one. Carl and S'heth stumble in the middle, neither not quite accustomed to physical labor, and Astra pulls up the rear, using her more sensitive Giidas hearing as an extra safety measure.

It's probably because of this that Astra hears the crumble of the earth before she sees S'heth's foot slip. Her reaction is not swift enough to catch him as he falls down the narrow ravine onto a small jutting cliff but Carl's shocked yell alerts the other group members that something happened.

Cautiously, Astra edges to the side of the withering embankment, stepping back swiftly – and pushing Carl back – as another chunk of rock falls away. She looks up at Rosy. "How far do you think that fall was?"

"At least thirty feet," the engineer answers swiftly from the other side of the gap.

"Could you see him?"

Astra nods at Ja'asper's question. "He looks like he was knocked out cold."

"Probably was. Falls like that aren't so good for the head," Carl injects, taking another step back. "We can't just leave him there."

"We won't," Astra says. "I'm going down."

Ja'asper protests immediately, his mind conjuring up an image of Commander Khai and the intimidation only a Giidas could inspire. "No, it shouldn't be you."

Astra narrows her eyes at him. "Who, then? We can't risk either Mari'Ahlice or Rosy because we need them for navigation and Carl is too scared to do it even if he wanted to. Sorry, Carl," she adds as an afterthought.

"Not offended," he quips.

"And," Astra continues with firm determination. "It can't be you because we wouldn't be able to pull you back up, Metal Bones, even without S'heth's added weight. It _has_ to be me."

"How _logical_ ," Rosy says, shaking her head with an ironic smile, casting a glance over the side of the embankment.

Ja'asper scrubs a hand down his face and pushes away the flare of brotherly protectiveness. "I don't like this."

"You don't have to like it," Astra tells him. "Get me some rope."

For a moment, the group pauses – had they brought rope?

But then, Mari'Ahlice pulls a long length of black bungee rope from the slim pack on her back. _Of course, she would be prepared for this_ , Astra thinks as she double knots the rope around her metal-plated ribs while Ja'asper secures the other end to a nearby tree, suddenly thankful for the foresight. S'heth was a good man, sweet and innocent. She didn't want to leave him behind if she could help it.

Astra steps up to the cliff and, taking the advice Ahlice gave her in the tent, jumps out without looking.

It's a thrilling feeling, as if she's flying.

But her eyes are open and she knows that, eventually, the rope is going to pull her back. Astra braces her body for the impact – the sudden tension in the rope pops her spine as the left side of her body scrapes against the side of the cliff. She feels the rip in both her cloak and her skin with gritted teeth.

The bungee rope had stretched with her added weight and, with a heavy sigh, Astra climbs about ten feet up the cliff until she reaches the jut the S'heth laid on. "He's got a pretty bad gash," she yells up. "Get ready, Carl!"

"You got him?" Ja'asper calls down, tugging slightly on the rope as Astra shimmies beneath the lightweight Twi'lek body, hooking her legs around S'heth's waist and her arms beneath his.

"Got him!"

Gravity makes S'heth _feel_ much heavier after a few minutes of slowly being pulled up the side of the cliff, but Astra maintains her hold, locking her joints and muscles, holding her breath when her grip slips for an instant. She doesn't dare move until she and S'heth are dragged onto the embankment and then she releases her limbs with a relieved groan.

Carl begins working on S'heth's gash the instant Ja'asper has pulled their unconscious teammate beneath the lush vegetation and Rosy helps Astra stand, raising her brows at the purple stain of blood on Astra's arm, bleeding through the cloak.

"That's new," she says.

Astra rolls her eyes. "Tell me about it."

Carl informs the group minutes later that S'heth will need to be transported back to their base camp to be monitored. Astra contacts Heidi, who relays the message back to Ty in the shuttle and, very quickly, Carl and S'heth disappear in fractured golden light.

"We should go east," Mari'Ahlice says after Carl's tense face disappears from view.

"East? We were just heading north," Rosy argues. "What's with the change?"

Ahlice's eyes are slightly dazed as she looks to her right, into the vegetation and higher cliffs above the embankment. "Of the two choices we have, going east would be quicker. There will be storms tonight that will last three days," she replies, rose-quartz eyes darting to the clear blue sky. "Violent winds will cause a static frequency that the Federation will not be able to break through and we will run out of rations. I would like to avoid that."

Ja'asper waves a hand forward. "Lead the way."

The hike east is considerably more difficult than the terrain in the north and Rosy begins to tire an hour into the journey from the heavy tools secured in the pockets of her pants. Astra walks beside her roommate, idly checking on the purple-crusted wound on her arm, which surprisingly hardly hurt; another Giidas trait, perhaps? While she wasn't tiring or winded like Ahlice and Rosy, her head _was_ hurting more and she had the thought that maybe Mari'Ahlice _knew_ that, because the Piarie would occasionally shoot her reassuring smiles. Ja'asper, for his part, was silent and dangerously alert, his footsteps silent on rocks, his breath a bare whisper as he holds up a hand to stop them.

"Did you hear that?" he mouths silently to his teammates, tilting his head to the left.

Another stumble and curse can be heard and Ja'asper suddenly grins, motioning for the girls to duck behind the lavish trees while he crouched down, metal joints glinting in the low afternoon light.

Astra, too, hears the clumsy footsteps and smiles – _one_ person. Easy pickings.

And then, sharp and clear due to the new Terran technology, another voice, distorted only slightly over the radio, rings into the forest. " _Fuck! Luc! We're at their damn camp and there's a flag but it's not the right one – no Federation stamp. The camp is completely deserted."_

"What?" Luc asks, his voice high and reedy with exhaustion and surprise. "A fucking _decoy?_ "

" _Looks like they had the same idea we did,"_ the voice responds. _"Keep our flag safe. Jordi out."_

"Shit," Luc curses.

Astra raises her brows at Ja'asper, suddenly recalling his brief exchange with Amun before they left. Her mentor was brilliant – two plans with only half the team aware of Plan B, probably just in case the search team was caught. And with Ahlice's help, _of course,_ they would have found the opposition's flag carrier easily – and in half the time.

Ja'asper waits until Luc stumbles closer to where he was crouched behind a bush and, just as Luc is about to step back, Ja'asper's hand darts out, grasping the back of Luc's shirt. "Gotcha."

"For fucks sake!"

Astra steps away from her tree, holding her hand out. "We'll be taking that flag."

***N*O*V*A***

Admiral Aro appears very impressed as he stands before the winning half of third-year cadets – the sardonic smile is gone completely and he is much warmer as he pats each cadet on the back, exchanging a few words with them as the sunset over London.

The moment their shuttle had transported back into the general vicinity of the school, Astra's headache had disappeared in a flash and a sudden rush of _welcomewarmthlove_ shoots across the bond as Khai allows the connection to open again. Astra had released a thankful sigh, returning the feelings, and relaxing back into her seat beside S'heth, who had a concussion. He hadn't noticed Astra's subtle change, which she was thankful for; she didn't want to seem like she was on edge.

Aside from Luc, the opposing team took the loss well. Admiral Aro had approved of using Mari'Ahlice's seer abilities during the simulation, because in a real-life situation, if it was there to use, it should be used without hesitation. He called Ahlice and Ja'asper a _cunning_ team – Astra agreed completely.

Her posture straightens automatically as Admiral Aro approaches their group of ten with his arms held wide. "My favorite group of the day," he greets. "Not only did you win, but you were the fastest cadets overall. Because of this, I would like to extend an invitation to you for the _Nova's_ test flight. After graduation, of course."

Immediately, Astra feels Khai's wariness. _I do not want you to go. Test flights are dangerous._

 _Khai,_ she says gently. _I may be yours, but I'm also mine. If I want to go, I'm going to go. I'll have to be on a starship eventually._

 _I know this, t'hy'la. But not a test flight,_ he argues monotonously.

_I won't be a kept woman, a little trophy. I'm…clearly not normal, Khai. Half-breed. Half-blood. The stars call to me and I'll be following that beacon whether you like it or not. I'd rather have you by my side, though._

Slowly, very slowly – perhaps too reluctantly, as well – Khai sends a feeling of acceptance over the bond, shadowed closely by love and a lash of black possessiveness. _I understand, t'hy'la_.

"Cadet?"

Astra blinks at the clever eyes of Admiral Aro, her face heating slightly in embarrassment. "I apologize, Admiral. It's been a long day."

"I hope you heard the invitation onto the _Nova_."

"I did, Admiral. I would be honored to be aboard, Sir."

* * *


	28. Part 2: 6

**6**

_London, Terra, 2621_

Rosy was certain something was seriously _weird_ with her youngest roommate – not that Astra was normal in the first place. At least, not really. Probably not ever. There were so many different factors magnetized to that girl's life that Rosy was surprised Astra was able to find herself in the crossfire. Astra's life seemed to be an ionic storm waiting to happen because at some point the gypsy-meets-half-blood-Giidas-meets-omnilinguist-meets-li'lute-player-meets-random-fevers-meets-superior-officer's-interests-meets-favors-for-roommates will just _clash_.

Rosy didn't think it would be pretty or good or in any way _safe_ for a seventeen-year-old girl who only in the last six months was able to stop looking so damn malnourished.

It probably didn't help matters that Astra didn't seem to shy away from this abnormal combination; if anything, the hybrid gypsy girl _welcomed_ the oddities. Rosy's maternal concern was for naught. Astra coped, pushed herself to the brink, and beat the odds with luck that couldn't be coincidental. And she _changed_.

Rosy knew that was why she was sitting in the middle of the thawing courtyard instead of tinkering with the photon phaser that Lieutenant Angela sent that was waiting in her room.

Because she had seen something weird today.

Things weren't supposed to _float_.

To be fair, Rosy thinks that maybe Astra was just as baffled; only Mari'Ahlice seemed unsurprised. Of course, Ahlice _wouldn't_ be freaked out by something as mundane as all of Rosy's tools hovering a foot from her desk while Astra asked about the specific construction of her saber, stress clear on the gypsy girl's face. And even then, perhaps _Rosy_ shouldn't have been too concerned about it; as a Zaintes, she could start fires with her _mind_ , which was marginally rare for her race in the first place.

But her race didn't control objects with their minds. What was odder was the fact that Rosy was _sure_ Giidas couldn't do that, either.

Rosy had retreated from the dorm after Astra locked herself away in her own room to meditate – probably to figure out _why she was making things float_ \- as Mari'Ahlice suggested. She wasn't sure what to do or what she could do, and if there was one thing that grated on Rosy's nerves, it was feeling _helpless_. She wasn't helpless, hadn't been helpless since her mother died during childbirth – an exchange of life had happened, as Rosy's mother gave her last breath to Lily, Rosy's sister, who was ten years younger than the engineer.

No, Rosy was strong. But if there wasn't anything she could do to help Astra, she didn't see anything wrong with a little space from the dorm. The fresh air was nice, though a bit chilly. She missed the humid heat of her planet.

Rosy looks out at the campus from her perch on a bench in the courtyard. Even after three years, the pristine perfection of the geometric campus still struck Rosy as beautiful, though not intimidating. She was inspired by the square shape, the crisp corners – and it showed in her engineering work.

She smothers a smile as she recalls Lieutenant Angela's latest communication – Rosy's inventive crystalline core was being implanted on a tester space shuttle and the Lieutenant was confident that the core would be implemented in the _Nova_. And if it _was_ used to crank the speed of the warp core, then Rosy would automatically make a Lieutenant Junior on the _Nova_ , which meant she would be able to send her commission credits home to her father and siblings. That was the plan and it was happening years ahead of schedule. Rosy thought she could thank Astra for that - the gypsy girl did pass Rosy's name up the ranks.

Rosy nods to herself, standing from the bench, resolved in her mind to do some research on whatever Astra was going through right now. She owed the younger girl that much.

But when Rosy looks up from a slick of grease on the side of her hand, she freezes, heat flashing through her. Scorching.

She feels the shift happen instantly, knows her eyes are swirling with another color as she looks at _him_.

He was Anzite, no doubt about that – tall and muscular, broad, with deeply tanned skin, and a strong, sharp jaw. His hair was cut short and dark. The clothes he wore seemed almost too tight as if the Replicators had trouble tailoring to his sheer size; the black uniform stretched across his shoulders in a distracting way. He walked with carefree confidence, stopping dead in his tracks when his eyes connected with Rosy's. She knew the exact second he recognized _the call_ because the vibrant bronzy-orange swirled with streaks of golden-yellow – Rosy's own eye color. Without looking at a mirror, Rosy knew that her eyes had swirled with his color, too.

 _Mate_. It was instantaneous for their races, the drive to know, to love, to _mate_ the person who completed their soul. Without even speaking to him, Rosy knew his name, his age – he was eight years older than her – his occupation, his reason for being in the area, and the basest parts of his personality.

They step forward at the same time, stopping when their toes touch. Rosy was tall on Terra, and of average height for a Zainte, but she suspected that _he_ was taller than average for an Anzite; she had to crane her head back to stare at the perfectly sculpted planes of his face, the slight bump over his eyes that resembled hers, as their races had no eyebrows. Rosy feels a sense of _home_ as she looks at him.

And then, he opens his mouth. "If you were a laser, you would be set on stunning."

For the first time in her life, Rosy had no idea what to say.

***N*O*V*A***

Astra couldn't meditate.

Never mind the fact that it was a weekend and Khai was currently not on campus and that her focus simply what it used to be unless he was in the range of their bond. Those factors were nearly obsolete in the face of the idea that she had done something…that no person should be able to do.

If Astra was willing, she might admit that odd things did happen to her – and they had all her life. The language learning, the deliriums and fevers, that one time she had killed a man in Tokyo…with the li'lute; and recently, her blood turning purple, the second puberty, the physical changes that had come so suddenly, like the sharpened tip of her ear and silvery tips of her fingernails. But what had just happened was unnatural.

She moved tools with her mind.

Made them float, like a leaf on the wind.

And she hadn't even noticed that she'd done it until Rosy had pointed it out and the tools crashed onto the floor and grease-covered desk. That was worrisome – in fact, all of her unexplainable abilities were worrisome. She didn't have control over a single one, despite the fact that she could _predict_ the rapid language learning and _hypothesize_ the killing in Tokyo; if it came down to the wire and she was prompted to use either of those abilities, Astra wasn't certain they would work. They seemed to be unconscious.

Traveling on the wind as a gypsy, that hadn't been a problem - the ability to learn any language in mere seconds had proven useful time and again, and the li'lute defense was protection, even if it was unpredictable. Now, though, at the Academy, attempting to be commissioned on the Federation's newest, most advanced starship, Astra was wary of her abilities, especially this newest one.

She had to be able to control it.

Resolutely, Astra gave up on meditation, slouching from her tight posture, hands covering her knees, eyes staring straight ahead. She tried to remember exactly how she felt when the _floating_ started. Frustrated, for sure, as she was closer to the deadline of her saber qualifying exam and she couldn't quite get the saber she had literally spent months building to work. Stressed. A little anxious. Did her emotions tie into this new ability? And if they did, _why_ was this ability only now showing up – because she'd certainly been more anxious and stressed in the past.

Astra leans back against the wall beside her bed, mind recalling the newest change before the ability manifested. The Second Bond to Khai, which had triggered her second puberty. It wasn't that much of a lateral leap to conclude that the Second Bond had somehow unlocked an ability of Astra's, especially given that the bond had unlocked physical alterations, too. And, truly, Astra _should_ have expected something like this to happen after she found out she was a hybrid Giidas-Terran, a status which explained her ability to use the psi-skilled sensitive li'lute in the first place.

She had to wonder about her heritage. Gypsies, by nature, were not inclusively informed about where they came from; they were drifters who didn't stick in one place long, let alone long enough to leave a mark on the world. Nanini had only known she was Greek because of her name and facial structure. And, like Nanini, Astra had grown up traveling with the quiet assumption that at least some of her blood was from Asia – the exotic tilt of her eyes was a clear indication. Giidas were collectively very Terran in appearance, with glowingly pale skin and dark hair, which explained Astra's lily-white, blemish-free skin, and the resolute opaqueness of her hair. It was very possible that Astra was partially Asian-Terran and Giidas, which prompted more questions with tentative, elusive answers. _How_ had her biological parents met? And what happened to them that was so horrible they left only a note with Astra's real name on it as an anchor to the past? Astra knew, from the dream-memories she had a few months ago, that she had a half-brother, and that her mother's husband was _not_ her biological father. And given the fact that a very young Khai, who Astra knew grew up in a lab facility, was present in those dream-memories, Astra had to assume that she hailed from the same place.

Astra was an experiment, just like Khai.

Her stomach dropped at that thought.

 _An experiment – a genetic experiment that produced hybrids and superior races_.

It was awfully specific.

And Astra had a feeling that there were more like her _somewhere_.

The universe was a very big place.

She exhales sharply with a shake of her head. Someone in the universe was splicing chromosomes together to produce humanoids with abilities – she was living proof of it. Astra was certain that they had done something to her genetic data, manipulated it somehow beyond the gifts of inherent genes so that she would have these unexplainable abilities. They'd done the same thing to Khai, made him into a nearly indestructible weapon; after the Second Bond was complete, Astra was no longer ignorant of what exactly had happened to prompt Khai's promotion. It was a notion that disturbed her greatly, the idea that he would willingly give his own life, especially in the face of negative odds, on the mere chance that he could save other lives.

Was it fate, then, that they had found each other? Or was it a carefully orchestrated plan?

A smile twists on her lips. _No, we were definitely fate. Somehow, I don't think tackling me on the sand dunes was anyone's idea of an introduction_.

Astra's eyes idly focus on the nearly complete saber lying on her desk, the unsuspecting source of the development of her newest ability. She had the thought that maybe if she concentrated, she would be able to recreate the phenomenon.

And that is exactly what she did. For the next half hour, she dedicated all of her concentration towards levitating _something_ – if she had done it once, she could do it again. She _had_ to. The problem, of course, was that she was trying too hard and she was too aware of her emotions. The first time it had happened, Astra _hadn't_ been monitoring her emotions, as was a habit from Giidas meditation.

She let herself become frustrated by the lack of progress – let that buzzing, red-hued emotion sink into the silver-white depths of her mind and into the silver-wisp tint of her eyes. Her brows drew down in a heavy glare, gaze on nothing and everything, heart beginning to race from both the emotions and the mental exertion.

And then, easily – so easy it was like _blinking_ \- simultaneously, all of the small objects scattered around her room began to hover just one inch. Just one – but _it was happening_.

 _She_ was making it happen this time.

A gleeful smile spread quickly across her face and the objects drop as satisfaction colors her mind blue.

"Emotions are the key," she murmurs to the empty room. "And isn't that odd? As Giidas, I'm supposed to suppress emotions – yet emotions are required to control the power."

It was contradictory in the extreme.

Astra stands in one graceful motion, light in her stride, automatically walking with her weight pushed on the balls of her feet, her body honed into a machine that was prepared to fight in a second. After several months of intense training, Astra couldn't turn off this trait. She wasn't sure she would want to, either. Being strong, quick, and _lethal_ was a heady feeling.

She stands in front of her desk, eyes trained on her saber, handheld a foot above the weapon, palm open, and allows hot emotions to rush through her, along with an undercurrent of icy determination. The saber instantly flies into her hand, her fingers curling around the cool silver-white metal and the circular-link design she had slaved over. The weapon was beautiful, with a curving piece of shinned steel to protect her fingers and, conveniently, to hide the device that allowed _only Astra_ to use the weapon. The device was something that had given her a bit of trouble to program, as well as the safety on the saber, which was a fingerprint scanner right beneath the hilt. The scanner was a source of frustration, and had been the very reason why she had gone to Rosy in the first place earlier in the day; now, though, with a few deft movements backed by the steady light-blue directness in her mind, the scanner clicked into place.

Astra steps back from her desk and into the middle of her room, sliding her thumb against the fingerprint scanner, which glows soft neon purple once; the fingers curled around the hilt and tucked beneath the safe metal curve are pricked with quick jabs. The circular designs on the saber slowly glow a soft pink, the exact shade of Astra's happy eyes, and then shift, along with her eyes, into a light green, reflecting creativity as the white-light-laser of the saber shoots from the hilt, radiating bare amounts of heat. The fully functioning saber is five feet long and designed to activate when Astra's fingerprint and blood are present, as well as the hilt color is meant to change in hue along with her eyes – a touch that Astra felt was inspired greatly by the subtle change in Khai's eye color. She had been working on a side project too, for when she was commissioned on a starship, a particular uniform design that would allow her to be both a Communication's officer and a warrior; with Mari'Ahlice's help, it would be ready by graduation.

One of Astra's feet slides back slightly, her arm extending as she gracefully swings the saber in a low arc, enjoying the sight of the silver-white laser and the lethal buzz of concentrated energy. She slides her thumb over the fingerprint scanner again, and the saber retracts, the glow on the circular design fading into the metal.

It was complete. And Astra was fully prepared for the qualifying exam – especially with her newest, emotionally charged asset.

***N*O*V*A***

"He's twenty-nine years old," Rosy says, pushing the food on her plate around with a fork. "And his sense of humor is just strange."

Astra shares a look with Mari'Ahlice, one brow raised, her lips quirked to the side. Rosy hadn't stopped talking about Emet since she arrived back at the dorm, a bronze blush seared into the skin of her cheeks; her eyes had changed along with her countenance, the color now a swirl of gold and coppery-orange. Astra was sure she had never seen her roommate so enthused. Rosy wasn't even eating.

"He's much too old for me," she says suddenly. "Eight years!"

"Ja'asper is five years older than me," Ahlice offers. "And Astra is merely seventeen."

"Yes," Astra agrees wryly. "At least your relationship is legal to the Federation."

It was the first time Astra had confirmed that there was _anything_ between her and the Commander, but with the bond humming happily, she found she didn't care – he was on campus again, and her slight headache had receded, and he was listening to their conversation with trace amounts of amusement. Everything in Astra's world was _good_.

"He speaks in Terran idioms and clichés," Rosy muses, stabbing a piece of her food with a fork. "He's very different from me."

"That is fate," Ahlice replies simply, casting a sidelong glance at Astra.

_Fate. Always a topic of discussion._

_How illogical._

Astra turns her attention inward. _You think so?_

_There is no such thing as fate. What is simply is. That is what Giidas believe._

_What do you believe?_ Astra probes.

_T'hy'la, I do not hold the answers to the universe._

_I know. But do you truly not believe in fate?_

_I do not_.

Astra smothers a smile, though a spark of amusement travels through their bond. Though Khai truthfully didn't believe in fate, he did have the idle inclination that soul mates did exist – and wasn't a soul mate a pivotal belief in fate?

Across the bond, Astra feels more than hears Khai's slightly disgruntled sigh.

She had outsmarted his argument.

 _T'hy'la_. He is exasperated, though only minutely. Astra had found that, while Khai did have emotions, they were severely repressed to the point that any minuscule change in disposition felt like a massive alteration; the only consistently huge emotion was his love and devotion to her. She could live with that.

Rosy tosses down her fork, her forehead pressing into the palm of her hand. "I can't stop thinking about him. It's an obsession. I don't know how my race copes with this! I didn't ask to be tied to Emet," she sighs. "Aside from how attractive he is, he's not even my type _at all_. And I didn't even know I had a type."

Astra swallows the bit of vegan food in her mouth. "Then how do you know he's definitely _not_ your type?"

Rosy delivers a rather droll expression. "His first words to me were a pick-up line. And a _bad_ one at that."

"It could be worse than an odd sense of humor," Astra offers with a shrug of her shoulders. "He could be violent."

Rosy bites a plush lip, nodding. "That's true. It's just…When I came here, to the Academy, I wasn't expecting to meet anyone. Part of the draw for working in the Federation was the fact that my missions would be long, with very little time for me to form a connection with anyone, let alone find my mate."

"Though your path may change, fate will remain," Mari'Ahlice says softly, fingers brushing against the chimes hanging from the circlet on her head. "This I know to be true."

"I get that," Rosy replies, a tinge of sadness saturating her voice. "But I watched my father fall apart after my mother died. For Anzites and Zaintes, the ties we form to our mates include a tie to our souls; when one mate dies, the other very rarely lives. And I didn't _want_ that. It's too scary."

Astra's heart clenched for Rosy. She knew very little about the older girl's life, except for the fact that Rosy had a few younger siblings and that her mother died giving birth to her youngest sister. Having grown up with only Nanini, Astra couldn't imagine what Rosy's life might have been like with only one parent and five siblings, and knowing that the only parent left was constantly in mourning, just barely hanging onto his own life. Through the bond, Khai sends over a wave of comfort, which seems to drape across Astra's shoulders like a warm blanket.

And though it goes against every growing Giidas instinct, Astra reaches her hand forward, allowing the newly-sensitive neuro-telepathic nerves to brush against Rosy's hand, allowing Rosy's confusion, anguish, and infatuation wash over her. As much as Astra did not want to initiate skin contact now that everything or person she touched came with a memory or a feeling – as much as both Khai and her awakening Giidas instincts prompted her to maintain a no-touch policy – it was Astra's humanity, the Terran in her blood, that gave way to the comforting compulsion. Much easier than breathing, Astra pushes a gentle breeze of clarity and peace into Rosy's mind.

Rosy's copper-gold eyes widen, gazing at Astra with a steady, probing stare, their depths softening, losing the edge of stress and mourning. "Thank you," she says, so softly Astra is barely able to hear it; in fact, she _feels_ the thanks through the weak link between their minds than she hears the words.

Astra pulls her hand away gently, casually observing the little link dissolve into nothing. She folds her hands together.

Mari'Ahlice's rose-quartz eyes are wise as she stands with a hint of a smile and a tilt of her head. "Fate cannot be altered. It will find you, one way or another," she declared before turning her eyes to the tall, blond-and-metal figure approaching their table. "Ja'asper."

For Astra, it was odd seeing the icy, detached Me'atal melt beneath Ahlice's gaze – he was extraordinarily gentle with her, holding his hand out and allowing Ahlice's delicate, iridescent fingers to tangle with his own metal-joints. The sight made her smile softly.

Ja'asper's glacial eyes meet her own. "Don't be late tomorrow," he warns.

"I won't be."

 _Tomorrow?_ Khai questions in her mind, the deep baritone of his voice a pleasant vibration in her ears, though the tone seems foreboding.

 _Saber qualification,_ Astra replies confidently. _So I can take it on-board._

 _They are dangerous_ , is Khai's response. She knew, without him having to say it, that he didn't _like_ sabers – he knew what they could do and, as much as he was reluctant to admit it, it made him anxious to think that Astra might wield a deadly weapon that he had no idea how to use. It wasn't that she had an advantage over him, because he'd gotten over the fact that she knew more languages than he did; it was more that Khai had a deep-seated fear that he would not be able to protect Astra from her own weaponry. She, however, had no such fears and related that much wordlessly over the bond. _I understand, t'hy'la, though this knowledge does not negate my….worries_.

 _You have every right to be worried, but..._ Astra closes her eyes, delving into her own memories, and pulls out the chain of events from this morning. She showed her new ability with very little caution, sure that Khai would at least be able to tell her if this was something a Giidas should be able to do.

His silence was unsettling, though.

_Khai?_

_That is a very rare ability, t'hy'la_ , he intones quietly.

_How rare?_

_That ability is specific only in females from the Giidas High Clans, and even then, the emergence of such ability is entirely dependent on specific emotional requirements, and therefore increasingly rare in our particular society, given the social normality of emotional repression_.

Astra pushes away her tray of food, staring unseeingly at the colorful half-eaten plate. _Very rare, then._

 _I would postulate that fewer than three females currently living have this skill, t'hy'la_ , Khai clarified seriously. _And I implore you to keep this ability a secret, if possible_.

The warning sent shivers down Astra's spine.

If _Khai_ was wary of this ability being discovered, then _Astra_ certainly had something to worry about.

***N*O*V*A***

Astra moved like a well-oiled machine, fingers deftly clipping safety armor onto her body alongside Ja'asper. They had already warmed up together, their limbs limber and loose, and Astra's skin misted with a fine layer of sweat.

She was dressed in the metal-reinforced training clothing, the color a drab grey, the fabric poorly tailored to her small frame as the uniform was initially Replicated for a male cadet and she did not have time to Replicate one of her own. Ja'asper's uniform, in comparison, was much better fitted, to which Astra thought Mari'Ahlice appreciated. Astra bent down, tightening the clasps on her heavy boots, feeling the foreign weight of the sleek safety helmet on her head; she didn't like the feeling, especially the scratchy tie beneath her chin. Her short hair was pinned back away from her face thanks to Ahlice, and Rosy had already checked the mechanics of Astra's saber earlier that morning.

Khai was in the back of her mind and waiting on the sidelines of the underground gymnasium, hands crossed behind his back and face completely blank of expression. He looked handsome and dangerous, dark bronze hair falling into his steel-toned eyes. She liked the sharp angle of his profile, and the twitch of surprise in his expression, which she only caught because he cataloged the minute change in his own mind, which was running a humming commentary of quick thoughts that she could not entirely understand.

_Spying, t'hy'la?_

_Hardly_ , she disagrees, smothering her own smile, though she does send her mirth over the bond. _Did you know how much I looked at you, before? I don't think I even realized it._

_I was not aware._

_Really?_

_I could not see past my own obsession._

Astra feels the lilac blush bloom on her face and tilts her head down to hide it from the cadets around her. _You are very distracting,_ she admonishes.

_My apologies._

_I thought apologies were illogical._

_They are._

She laughs at that, waving away Ja'asper's inquisitive expression.

"You can lose your mind _after_ this qualifier," he asserted, metal glinting as he pulls on specialized training gloves.

"We never wore this much armor during training," Astra complains lightly, wiggling her fingers into her own slightly-too-large gloves.

Ja'asper shrugs. "The sabers weren't fully functioning then."

"That's true."

"You don't seem concerned at all."

"Should I be?" Astra asks rhetorically. "I know my own strengths and I have eyes – I know their skill levels."

"Don't get overconfident," Ja'asper warns.

"I know."

Ja'asper reaches for his saber, which was male, distinct, all bold lines and thick metal, black and intimidating. In his hand, it looked ready kill, even without the laser turned on. She knew, from what he had told her, that the bottom half of the saber, which was at least eight inches longer than most, held specialized and deadly Me'atal weapons.

Her own saber, by contrast – and in comparison to the others around her – was supremely delicate. _Pretty_ by anyone's standards. Lightweight, thinner than Ja'asper's, it was just as deadly, perhaps more lethal given the innocent appearance of the weapon. Her saber was easy to underestimate and that is exactly how she wanted it. She tucked the weapon into the plain holster on her left hip and stepped into the middle of the gym along with her classmates.

Sergeant Dmitri seemed to be vibrating with energy, his grin wide. This was the first group of cadets he had ever taught the use of the saber to and his expectations were reasonably high. He was ready for action and relayed as much to the waiting students and observing faculty on the sidelines as he paced easily in front of the lined-up cadets. "They will be paired in twos," he says. "Though, it's not about beating your opponent, as much as it's about showing me that you're ready to take this weapon on-board a starship."

And yet, despite Sergeant Dmitri's insistence, Astra's partner seemed to be thrumming with dangerous energy. She guessed that he meant to harm her to show off his skills, which was beside the point of the entire exercise.

As she adjusted her stance, rocking onto the balls of her feet, she allowed her eyes to flicker to Khai for a brief second. _Are you going to wish me luck?_

_Luck is illogical, t'hy'la, though I do anticipate your success._

Astra didn't roll her eyes, though she wanted to. He could be exasperating.

Sergeant Dmitri clapped his hands as he stood in the middle of the crowd at the sidelines. That is the signal to begin.

Astra slides her thumb over the sensor, her fingers instantly pricked by the blood coding mechanics, dark yellow circles illuminating the hilt of her saber as the silver-white laser materializes. She holds the weapon casually at her side, watching her brawny opponent. His saber-laser was a brilliant, chilling red, perfectly matching the wicked glint of his eyes.

He attacked ruthlessly and without preamble, flying into motion, his saber going straight for her head. She reacts quickly, spinning her own saber to block his attack, pivoting on her heels as she locks her free arm around his forearm, flipping his body over her back easily. He lands with an _oof_ and glares up at her, rolling to his side, kicking his leg out in time with another swinging arc of his weapon.

The sabers meet, not with a clash, but with a buzzing sound and a vibration of pure energy.

They battle for some time. Astra knows that their skill levels were not matched – she was better trained, yet, unlike her opponent, she held back from actually delivering injuries. His offense was without planning, and that made him dangerous. He did not hold back.

When Astra deduced this, she should have known that she was going to bleed. But she held faith that her opponent would heed Sergeant Dmitri's confines of the exam, sure that he would not intentionally deliver a potentially deadly blow.

Astra should have known better.

As her back connected with the lightly padded floor of the gym, Astra was not sure what had happened – she was only aware of the excruciating burn in her midsection, and the smell of burnt flesh and fabric. She was bleeding. There was pain. Still, she stared up at the ceiling dumbly as time seemed to stop or slow down.

The inky black emotions that Khai struggled to keep locked away had torn past his mental walls, surging through the silver chain of their bond, pouring rage and protectiveness directly into Astra's mind. The emotions were saturating. Intoxicating. They were so strong that her body reacted viscerally to the constant, panic-driven thoughts of Khai's mind.

 _Healherdon'tdiet'hy'lahealherhealherhealt'hy'lahem ustdiehealher_.

 _Yes,_ her mind whispers, hisses, to her body. _Heal_.

Later, neither Astra nor Khai would be able to explain _how_ it happened, because Khai, for even as limited as his knowledge was, had never heard of such a thing.

As it was, Astra was somehow able to borrow Khai's genetically manipulated regenerative healing. She _felt_ her flesh knitting together, the internal injuries righting themselves, the bleeding stopping as she forced her body to move, springing from the floor in one fluid motion, inactive saber forgotten on the gym floor.

She might have noticed the stunned silence of the gymnasium if she had not been so intent on disarming her shocked opponent, snapping his wrist, tossing his saber into a wall, and using the ruthless Me'atal training to incapacitate him.

And then, when he was on the floor, immobilized, Astra saw the puddle of purplish blood laying beside her silvery saber.

_How am I alive?_

_I do not know, t'hy'la._


	29. Part 2: 7

**7**

_London, Terra, 2621_

Khai was not prone to emotional manifestations of desperation, nor did he possess the tendency to gravitate towards rash decisions. As a Giidas, he was naturally – rather, as natural as possible for one who was genetically manufactured – inclined to marinate in ideas and logic before pursuing a particular path. To be clear in his narration, Khai examined options, details, and deductions before making a decision, and often completed all of these steps in the span of seconds. Terrans deemed him _calculating_ , a descriptor which he could not argue. He was calculating, often ruthlessly so, and lethal, in large part due to these traits, these steps of logical thinking that were innate to his sense of normality. Khai was not desperate, nor was he prone to desperation, or desperate acts.

And yet, he was behaving – _feeling_ , both mentally and physically – desperate.

To begin the diagnosis, his metabolic functions were behaving erratically – heart rate jumping, breathing rate escalating, temperature fluctuating. His physical reflexes were slower by exactly 2.6 percent. His retinas reacted oddly to light, much to his irritation, as he spent the majority of his days enclosed in bright spaces. If he was not completely concentrating on his speech, he found that his words slurred. He could not walk in a perfectly straight line; Khai favored his left side and began walking near the wall in case he began to feel lightheaded again. If he stood too quickly, he experienced a disorienting flash of black dots in his vision. His mental functions were also compromised; mathematics took more concentration, he lost seconds of time if not carefully monitoring the hour, he was forgetful, and, most unsatisfactorily, the wealth of black emotions was resurfacing. Khai had trouble accessing his bond to Astra.

He was decidedly _not well_.

And he did not understand why.

Due to his genetic makeup, as well as the gene manipulation that produced his rapid healing factor, Khai's physical health had always been perfect. He had never been sick a day in his life, with exception to injuries, and even then his body rejected any onset of illness. He very simply could not understand what was happening to his body and, therefore, promptly ignored it, assigning his "symptoms" as a psychological phenomenon that obviously stemmed from the unrest he experienced during the nights when he was forced to sleep away from campus and his _t'hy'la_.

 _Unless_ …

It was almost completely against Khai's most logical nature to _consider_ the thought that flashed through his head.

But when he eliminated the impossible, only one solution, regardless of how improbable, remained.

The scientists as the Giidas Science Institute, the emotionless beings who raised him, who altered his body, who recalibrated his mind, who forced him through test after test – they had always maintained that he was superior in every way to a traditional Giidas. He was not normal. Khai was _designed_ to be extraordinary, and with that destiny on his shoulders, he was expected to surpass the genetic malfunctions of his species that held them back from being perfect. In short, what was happening to him was not supposed to happen. The scientists had made it so, and they were encouraged by the Federation, who funded his life from before he was an embryo in a water tank.

Yet, Khai couldn't deny that it _was happening_ , to him, right now, and probably had been happening for some time. He had ignored the signs, holding onto the belief that the scientists who created him knew everything about his genetics, and that they had eliminated that which they set out to eradicate.

They had failed.

And Khai's blood-fever was upon him.

***N*O*V*A***

It was complete.

Astra sat back onto her desk as the Replicator _whirred_ down, arms crossed over her chest, a satisfied smile on her lips. The pile of fabric and metal cooled under her watchful eyes, which flashed bright chartreuse with creativity. She was sure it didn't need to be said, but Astra enjoyed fashion.

Growing up as a gypsy did not afford Astra many opportunities to explore her interests, aside from the li'lute, which she was able to make time for after acquiring the instrument. She was not able to do much but admire the dresses that girls her age wore, especially since she spent her nights stealing food or taking care of Nanini in her later years. When she did need clothing, she stole that, too – and she certainly couldn't afford to be picky with what she was able to obtain. Perhaps that was why her closet was overflowing with Replicated clothing. She was making up for lost time.

It had been a passing comment of Mari'Ahlice's that had planted the idea in Astra's head – which was most likely _exactly_ what the Piarie girl knew would happen. Until that moment, it hadn't occurred to Astra that she could choose what she would wear for her career; after all, most of the Federation officers she had seen tended to stick to one style. Women serving aboard Federation starships were rarer than anyone liked to admit, but after research, Astra had discovered that women were able, if they were so inclined, to design their own commission uniforms. Astra thought it was a novel idea, and one she planned to take advantage of, so long as she followed the strict color regulations.

The Federation, of course, was known galaxy-wide for being the officers in black, much as they were known for their unique architecture and pristine starships. With eager, silver-tipped fingers, Astra allows her sensitive fingers to touch the still-warm fabric of the uniform she designed. She took much care into creating the correct algorithms for the uniform, and had given careful thought to both function and style – in fact, she probably spent just as much time designing her uniform as she did designing her saber.

Had Khai been on campus while that thought crossed her mind, Astra was sure he would have deemed her excitement as _fascinating_ , and the word would have been undertoned with a dash of amusement.

She felt her lips pull into a smile – she could predict his thoughts, to a degree, now. She loved that.

Astra carefully places the bundle of fabric onto her clean desk, right next to her silver saber. The designs of both pieces echoed each other as one cohesive thought. Defined. Singular.

Her uniform was composed of four pieces, each serving multiple purposes; anti-gravity boots, laser-repelling tights, armor-reinforced dress, and temperature-controlled cloak. The tights were made of sheer material and layered with randomly sized circles of blunt grey metal, which were lined with the same white-light-reactive-to-blood glowing technology as her saber. The boots were black, knee-high, fitted close to her calves, but heavy and chunky at her feet, smooth without buckles or zippers, the material reinforced with light, protective armor. The jet black dress required the most thought of the uniform, and was cut asymmetrically at the top of her right thigh, the hem tapering over to her left mid-thigh; the bodice of the dress was snug, unforgiving and restraining, designed in a slanted collar, which covered her left shoulder while her right shoulder remained free; the material was soft but stiff from the plated armor hidden within. The pristine cloak had an asymmetrical silver circular clasp over her left shoulder, the sturdy material hemmed at the top of her knees, the hood deep and domed. Standing in front of her dorm mirror, dressed in her newly Replicated uniform, Astra carefully closed the clasp of her saber-belt, which was silver and draped diagonally across her hips, hanging low and heavy on her left thigh, and stared at herself. With the cloak clasped, it remained closed, and in the mirror, all Astra could see were her boots and her cloak, her face partially hidden in the shadow of the dark hood.

She looked like a Federation Officer – a dangerous one, at that.

And in a few hours, she officially would be.

Today was graduation, which sent a flutter through her stomach. Excitement. She could hardly believe that she had entered and graduated from the Academy in under a year, but it was real and she was ready.

She exhales heavily, tucking the fine silver of her new li'lute case into one of the cloak's interior pockets, along with her pocket-com, her hand unconsciously checking for the reassuring weight of her saber strapped onto her person, and turns for the door, intent on waiting for her roommates – and _friends_ – in the living room.

Rosy, who Astra had noticed was perpetually punctual, was already waiting. Like Astra and Mari'Ahlice, Rosy had designed the sleek black jumpsuit that composed her uniform, which covered her body from neck to wrist to ankle – _not_ that it was modest in anyway, given how tight the material was. She accented the grease-repellant jumpsuit with clunky anti-gravity boots and a sturdy black utility belt, which hung low on her hips and buckled with a single silvery square clasp. Rosy's long, curly blond hair was pulled into a high tail on the top of her head and, for the first time in a month, her face was free of grease.

"Ready?"

"Waiting on the princess," Rosy replies, absently tinkering with one of the zippers on her belt. "I got a message from Lieutenant Angela, earlier. She's testing out my warp core design today. I wish I could be there."

Astra offers a smile. "That's wonderful, Rosy."

"It wouldn't have ever happened without you, Astra," Rosy replies sincerely, the corners of her golden-copper eyes crinkling as she smiles. "My design would still be in the dark. But you passed my name along. I can't ever thank you enough."

"Don't mention it."

Mari'Ahlice eventually emerges from her heavily incense-smoked room, the silver circlet on her head decorated with more bells than normal. Astra thinks that seeing Mari'Ahlice in black was a little out of place, though Ahlice more than made up for the oddity by the flowing, billowing fabric of her own uniform and the thin spikes of the heels of her shoes. "I am not a princess," she tells Rosy immediately, knowingly. "Shall we go?"

Rosy rolls her eyes. "I _can_ research, you know. That thing on your head is a symbol of-"

Ahlice shakes her head. "It is a mere formality," she insists. "Come. We will be late."

"Wouldn't have been late if you didn't take your sweet time getting ready," Rosy grouses, much to Astra's amusement.

It isn't until Astra – along with the rest of the graduating class – is sitting in the front row of chairs placed in the square courtyard that she feels the silvery bond in her mind shimmer with Khai's arrival.

He was nearly late. That wasn't like him.

In fact, for the last four days, Khai hadn't been quite himself – there was something… _untamed_ about his mind, something he was hiding from her for whatever reason. She didn't pry, content in knowing that if he wanted to share whatever it was with her, that he would in his own time. Still, she _did_ wonder why that swirling mass of black emotion seemed to be waiting on the sidelines of their bond as she sent a wave of love towards Khai, who responded immediately, his own thoughts crashing over her like a tidal wave. _T'hy'la. Can smell her from here. Must wait._

_Khai?_

The response she receives is not words, but a barely restrained growl. Astra shivers and risks a glance towards the faculty, where Khai is standing close to the shadow beneath a tree, hands clasped behind his head, face utterly impassive except for the flaring of his angular nose.

Astra turns her eyes forward, brows furrowed in confusion. As far as she knew, as far as _anyone_ knew given how secretive the Giidas society was in general, Astra was sure that the Giidas race had eradicated the primal urges from their species a thousand years ago. And yet, Khai was behaving decidedly primal.

She didn't know what to make of it, and the theories building in her mind kept her distracted until the graduation ceremony began.

Admiral Caius, the Falleen that had promoted her to a third-year status, stood at a translucent podium, posture as stiff and perfect as Khai's, dressed in a silver-star decorated black uniform. "Cadets," he greets, waiting as all the standing cadets salute him in synch. "At ease. Please be seated. We have gathered here today to usher in the newest members of the Federation and, in many cases, the most promising Ensigns the Federation has ever seen…"

Astra is in a state between disbelief and excitement as Admiral Caius's speech continues. She'd truly done it, finished her education, was almost reaching the stars – and she had Khai to thank for it. If he'd never mistaken her for hypnotizing the audience in Cairo, if he'd never chased her down and tackled her onto the sand dunes, she wouldn't be _here_ right now. And, really, it _was_ fate, because all those months ago, Astra was ready to move on from Cairo; in fact, on that day, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision to play the li'lute in the outdoor market. She didn't know if she should thank a higher power or mathematical probabilities, but her life changed the second Khai laid eyes on her, and had been changing ever since. There were missing puzzle pieces – like her parents and why she was a hybrid – but she was confident that, with time, the answers would reveal themselves.

If only she'd known that the answers would come in a neat little package, in the heat of a moment too big to contain.

Astra, having no last name, was one of the first to receive her graduation chip from one of the Admiralty secretaries, along with a pat on the shoulder from Admiral Caius, who had been informed on her half-Giidas nature and took care to avoid touching her hands. "We will see great things from _you_ , I'm sure," he tells her, his slit Falleen eyes tracking the nod of her head.

Astra exits the stage, tucking her graduation chip into the pocket of her cloak, eyes seeking out her friends, and then subtly looking towards Khai. Just as she registers his disappearance, the growl of his voice echoes in her mind, vibrating their bond, and she receives the barest impression of an address, along with a silent prod that she was to meet him there. Looking out at the crowd, Astra sits back down and waits, rather impatiently, for the ceremony to end, though she does clap for her friends as they receive their own graduation chips – she even lingers until the crowd breaks up so that she can exchange a hug with Ja'asper, Mari'Ahlice, and Rosy.

And then, as soon as she is sure she can, Astra slinks through the thinning crowd and boards a hover bus to West London, where she follows a tiny tug in her mind that acts as a map. Though he is not speaking to her, Astra is aware of Khai's looming presence in her mind, silently guiding her off the correct stop, onto the precise streets, and into the quaint, remodeled townhouse, which was broken up into two apartments. Khai's door, which was made of _wood_ , was painted a muted red and opened before she had a chance to knock on it.

Astra isn't sure how it happens, but one moment, her face is pulling into a smile, and the next, her back is against a wall, the door is slammed, and Khai's face is pressed into the skin of her neck, hands kneading at her hips as her cloak flutters to the ground.

_T'hy'lasmellssogoodmusthavecan'twaitburningburning burning._

_Khai?_

_Burningburningmusthavet'hy'laburning._

His teeth sink into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, not quite hard enough to draw blood, but with enough pressure to distract her from his unhinged thoughts. His hands are sliding firmly on her body, cupping her breasts, roaming over her shoulders, squeezing her behind as he pulses his hips against her own.

His _t'hy'la_ smells so good, so ripe, like honey and tea and fertility and he _must_ have her or he feels like he will die and wither away into nothing and he will not leave her and _sheishearingthesethoughtsknowsthatIamburningt'hy'l aIneedIneedIneed._

_Yes, Khai. Take. Please._

As soon as her consent leaves the confines of her mind, Khai hauls her body up against his own; her legs wrap tightly around his narrow hips as he simultaneously walks deeper into his home and buries his lips against her throat, and then her back is on a gel-bed and Khai is grinding his hardness into the very place that aches for him.

It's as if the fire in his mind travels across their bond, because Astra, too, begins to burn in the most pleasantly torturous way. Her skin is ultra-sensitive as Khai drags her uniform off her body, carelessly tossing the clothing onto the floor along with his own. He growls at the tights and boots, tugging harshly on them and then pressing his open mouth onto the smooth skin of her newly revealed legs. His kisses continue up the inside of her thigh until he reaches her sex and her moistened underwear, which he promptly rips off, snarling in pleasure at the sight of her exposed nether-lips. He leans forward, hot breath ghosting across her most secret place, before he looks up, eyes caught between the blown-wide blackness of his pupils and the violet of his lust.

Khai slithers up her body, pausing to drop a suckling kiss onto her exposed breast, just shy of her nipple, his eyes unblinking on hers, his mind loud with static and burning as he reaches for her hand.

Their first kiss is ardent – teeth clashing, no more than an exchange of primal passion, an acknowledgement of the event on the horizon. He pulls away first, lilac heat on the tips of his pointed ears, high in his cheeks, present in the flush of his lips, and she, with fair lily-white skin, appears positively ravished, lush lips swollen, silvery eyes dunked in deep violet lust and glazed, dazed. Only a fracture of space separated their skin, lips barely brushing as they breathed in tandem. Exchanging heated breath, unblinking, with hair standing on edge as static telepathic nerves erupted beneath the surface of their palms, which were pressed together in quite a vulgar arrangement, fingers intertwined.

And then, so tenderly it seemed unreal in comparison to the barely-caged beast lingering in his conscious, Khai closed the gap between himself and his _t'hy'la_ , gently gaining access to the soft month of the omnilinguist.

For a long time, that is the last tender moment they exchange, because Khai is back to burning, demanding, controlling her body. He is so much larger than she is, physically overpowering her with longer limbs and a heavier frame. He separates their palms, smoothing his hands over her breasts to squeeze and pull, his lips following to tug mercilessly on her nipples, her own hands pressing against the back of his neck until he moves down her body and she must grip the blankets beneath her back to hold on to some part of the real world. Khai forces her legs apart, spreading them as far as he is able, and pressing her knees towards her chest so that his lips and tongue can meet the sweetness of her slick flesh. Astra's back arches and she releases a startled cry as his tongue ruthlessly flicks against the berry-red nub between her legs; he seems to know, instinctively, _exactly_ how to play her body, almost as well as she can play her li'lute.

Khai's mouth is only a warm-up to the careful way he prepares her body for the intrusion of his own. As she is writhing on the brink of orgasm, he presses his most telepathic fingers inside the slickness of her entrance, curling them towards her belly and sending pulses of pure pleasure directly from his mind into her body. Astra screams from the orgasm, which never seems to end as Khai continues pumping his fingers, twisting, adding another, sending another jolt of pleasure from telepathic nerves, dragging both her mind and her body down a blinding path until all of her limbs are shaking and she feels completely strung out, unable to count how many orgasms she'd just experienced or how long it had gone on.

Her eyes, heavy-lidded, open when she feels him shift on the bed until his hips are pressed between her legs, his hardness rubbing against her still-convulsing core. _T'nash-veh_ , his mind tells her as he growls against her skin, teeth scraping against the side of her neck. _Mineminemineminemine._

 _Yes, I do belong to you_ , she answers, reaching for him, dizzy from pleasure but still burning for his body and mind.

Slowly, almost cruelly slow, Khai presses the blunt tip of his sex into her opening, stretching her in such a way that Astra is torn between smiling and crying. He is so large that, despite how well he prepared her, the searing burn is a healthy dose of reality. He growls, snarls, hisses, and thrusts harshly, sinking in all the way, his hips flush against hers, waiting for a brief second before pulling out a bit and setting a spine-tingling pace. Astra clutches his shoulders, steals the breath from his lungs as he possesses her.

And that was what it was. _Possession_.

There was no other way to describe it, the burning, the _need_ she felt from him, the black swirl of violent emotions that only calmed marginally and only for a moment each time Khai released deep in her body. He had her any way he could; on her back, on her stomach, her side, Astra on top, against the wall, bent over the bed, sobbing another orgasm out as his teeth sunk repeatedly into the mark he'd first made on her neck. He had her until she was mindless from the pleasure, shrieking as her body fluttered and clenched around his own, her lily-white skin flushed lilac all over, her telekinesis uncontrolled to such a degree that objects around the room float in mid-air. He had her, still growling and snarling and thinking _mine t'nash-veh mine mine_ , until his seed coated the inside of her thighs as thoroughly as it did coat the inside of her womb. He had her as the sun set, and then rose and set again. He had her, took her, possessed her, until her nipples and lips were bruised and swollen from attention, until her neck boasted a blue-purple bruise in the shape of his teeth and mouth, until the outline of his hands on her lips was shadowed onto her skin, and her voice was hoarse from calling his name out.

Only then, when Astra was completely exhausted, body clenching around air as he pulled out, did Khai stop.

With such gentleness that was a juxtaposition from the way he'd had her the last twenty-four hours, Khai curled his _t'hy'la_ against his chest and covered them with heavy blankets, their bond thrumming and complete, the chains reinforced with cable-wire steel.

" _Adun'a_ ," he murmurs, one hand curled around her spine, the other pressing her hand against his heart.


	30. Part 2: 8

**8**

_London, Terra, 2621_

To say Astra was sore when she woke would have been an understatement. No training she had ever done with Ja'asper could ever hope to compare. Her lower abdomen ached fiercely from too many orgasms and she wasn't sure she could use her legs at all, as they still shook as she pressed her nose into the center of Khai's chest, smelling his scent of spice and sex and _mine_.

The soreness, though, hadn't woken her, nor had the stifling heat of Khai's body anchoring her against his chest, their legs entwined. It was the nightmare – the flashback – that had woken her from contented sleep, poisoning her mind with images of red heat and purple blood and _silence_ and the resolute snap of bone as it ended. She hadn't spoken to anyone about it, had even rebuffed Khai's attempts after they had deduced that the phenomenon healing had been a one-time thing; she made a point not to think about it, but the memory haunted her sleeping hours. She didn't want to. _I don't want_ _to think about it!_

_T'hy'la?_

Astra's eyes dart up, surprised to find bleary steel-toned eyes gazing down at her. For a second, she appreciated how innocent and youthful Khai appeared after waking up; his face, while normally rigidly composed, was now blank from sleep, and his hair stuck up at odd angles. She had the thought that she wouldn't mind waking up to _this_ every day and, to her amusement, Khai's ears heat a soft lilac in response.

 _Your thoughts woke me_ , he tells her after a moment, idly manipulating his own metabolic functions – slowing his heart rate, modifying his breathing. One of his slender fingers plays with a lock of her chin-length dark hair. She had the sense that he was focusing on being calm rather than aroused.

 _It was nothing_ , she insists.

_I am inclined to disagree. Your recent thought patterns have been marginally disturbed from the neutral baseline and the tenor is-_

Astra frowns at him. _I'm not sure you have the right to judge who is behaving normally or not, Khai._

_I am unsure as to your implication._

Astra's mind, functioning much more efficiently since her Giidas genes woke up, flashes to the odd occurrences in Khai's behavior over the past four days – like how he avoided her and then sought her out at the mess hall, or the way the swirling black mass of emotions at the edge of his consciousness seemed to be slinking all over his mind, dyeing his eyes a shade darker than normal. Not to mention, the day previous, which had been rather amorous – _not that she was complaining_. To anyone else, the differences in Khai's behavior might have been excusable, but for Astra, who was so tuned into the very core of who Khai was, these little alterations were worrisome. "You've been… _off_ the past several days, Khai. There has to be some kind of logical explanation," she tells him, making sure to relay examples through their bond, which seemed quicker, stronger.

"The reason is highly illogical, _t'hy'la_ ," he argues, deep baritone voice gravely from sleep. "The scientists who created me were unable to eradicate the mating drive of our species from my genetics, which is traditionally triggered by a visceral emotion in male Giidas, as they had intended. Against all evidence to the contrary, they failed in their endeavor."

Astra frowns, grey-wisp eyes flashing bright orange with curiosity as she pushes dark copper hair away from Khai's forehead. "You're telling me that this…what just happened between us, was not only a Giidas thing but a Giidas thing that you didn't think you had?"

"Essentially, _adun'a_."

"And that this-this-"

"It is referred to as the blood-fever," Khai interjects tonelessly, helpfully.

"Right. This blood-fever happened because you had very strong emotions?"

"I suspect that the onset of the blood-fever began the moment you were attacked during the saber qualification testing," he intones, seemingly absently squeezing the slender flesh of her naked hip. "Had you not been injured, the blood-fever might have waited until my twenty-fifth year, as is typical."

Astra's mind flashes back to the injury, the searing burn, the numbness in her mind when that bright red saber sunk into her stomach. She can still smell the blood and remember the exact expression on Sergeant Dmitri's face as her opponent had been dragged out of the gym with a broken wrist. Astra hadn't dealt with the ordeal – she _knew_ she had avoided thinking about it, avoided remembering it, going so far as to suppress the nightmarish, death-defying memory just as much as she had worked to suppress the killing in Tokyo. Never in her entire seventeen years had Astra been fatally wounded. She knew, without a doubt, that if Khai's regenerative healing hadn't somehow crested over their bond, that she would be dead – and that wasn't something she wanted to actively think about.

Yet, for as much as Astra _didn't_ want to think about it, Khai had unconsciously obsessed over the event so much that he had triggered a biological function he was programmed not to have. Perhaps it didn't help that Khai had been involved in the discharging of the particular cadet, lending his eidetic memory of the incident to the reports filed by the Admiralty – and Khai's natural proclivity for underscoring _everything_ most likely caused the rage to fester in the black emotions, in the shadows, of his mind until the blood-fever kicked in.

Khai caught the direction of her thoughts with a startled blink, steel-toned eyes suddenly sharp on her own. "You believe that the scientists did correctly manipulate my genetic data, but that… _nature_ overtook _nurture_ ," he states, tone devoid of all emotion. "Interesting."

"Yeah, it's – You called me _wife_ ," Astra says suddenly, the last whispers of sleep fading from her mind.

"I did."

She studies Khai's face for a long moment, detecting a hidden depth of _pride_ behind his stoic features, and smiles softly, a special smile meant for Khai alone. "We're married."

"We are."

_This is why our bond is so strong now?_

_Our bond is complete, t'hy'la. It is satisfactory._

Astra wrinkles her nose at his word choice but says nothing to contradict his statement – the fact that their bond was complete was, in all ways, satisfactory. _Strong_ was putting the improvements of the bond mildly, though; everything about it was silver, steel, and shrouded in protective mist; any lingering corners of their minds were completely exposed. Astra thought she might have been able to access his memories, if she wanted, and knew it would be easy to do. The bond between them was easier than breathing, now. Natural.

Astra looks down, and her heart-rate skyrockets. _Khai!?_

 _T'hy'la_? He questions calmly, eyes moving from the full shape of her lips to the direction her gaze was located.

 _What happened?_ She demands, shooting him an overly concerned look. _You're…it's not….Khai?_

 _Genetic modification,_ Khai informs her, running a hand over his pelvis, where his sex organ had retreated. _It is nothing to be alarmed of, adun'a_.

_Where does it…go? And why?_

_I was designed for battle, during which it would be unfavorable to have any associated vulnerable locations on my body. The decision was made that the sex organs of my body would be relocated in order to eliminate any potential situations in which the sensitivity of this particular organ would be used by an opponent. The organ merely retracts._

Astra blinks, trying to wrap her mind around the implication of what Khai had just revealed – that the scientists behind his genetic manipulations had decided to tuck his…his…. _organ_ inside his body when it wasn't in use because doing so would make Khai more likely _not_ to be affected by a kick in the groin. It was _odd_ , to say the least. _May I?_ she asks warily, sliding her hand down his chest.

Khai has no outward reaction. _If you wish_.

It's an odd feeling, trying to reconcile the fact that the hard muscle that had stretched her so thoroughly the day before could easily be hidden in a seam that echoed the design of her own body. It was reassuring to discover that her fingers playing over the area for a second drew Khai's sex from his body, and a shivering groan from his chest as his organ filled with dark purple blood, swelling in her hand, beneath her fingers, hard and soft at the same time.

"T'hy'la _,_ " he says warningly, his voice a shade deeper than normal, thicker with arousal, eyes slightly glassy.

She presses a soft kiss onto Khai's lips, slowly opening her mouth over his, her tongue sliding against the seam of his mouth as he exhales shakily, her fingers roaming through his hair, playing with the tip of his pointed ear. The feel of his body beneath hers, long and lean, covered with thick, inky tattoos, sent a thrill of lust racing up Astra's spine; despite the fact that their bodies had been very well acquainted over the last twenty-four hours, she wanted Khai again. _Immediately_.

Khai seems to catch up to her thoughts, because his hands slide down the sides of her body, settling on her hips, and tugging until Astra's core is pressed against his lower stomach, knees on either side of his hips. Deliberately slow, one of Khai's hands flip over, moving to rest on the quickly moistening lips of Astra's sex, the tips of his fingers pushing through to pulse against the delicate nub hidden just at the top. Astra gasps, breaking the connection of their lips, and shivers.

 _That's cheating,_ she whispers through the bond, her hips mindlessly bearing down on the tips of his fingers, whimpering when he pulls his hand away to toy with her nipple.

 _I disagree, adun'a_. Astra's body slips onto his own with the ease of familiarity and he rocks up into her wet heat with a low growl, a most inhuman noise. Her body clenches around his, silver-tipped nails digging onto the top of his shoulders. They had only tried this position once and, at the time, Astra had needed to stop every few thrusts due to the sensitivity of her body; this time, she was more in control, rolling her hips, using _his_ body to find pleasure, and he let her, content to follow along, enjoying the quiet sounds of their bodies and sight of Astra, naked, in the morning sun. His fingers reach for her face, creating a deep meld between their already bonded minds with his index and middle fingers pressed tenderly onto her temple. Their bond explodes with sensory moods and shared ecstasy. When the sensations became too much and Astra drags them both over the blinding-white cliff, he can feel echoes of her orgasm through their bond, which intensifies his own. _Most satisfactory_.

Sated, breasts heaving, Astra slips off Khai's hips and presses her face into her shoulder as she half-lays on his chest. Her cheeks are flushed and her silver-wisp eyes are bright lilac-silver with love. Her hand is pressed firmly against his thudding heart as they both calm, exhaustion dragging them towards the precipice of sleep again.

***N*O*V*A***

_It is another dream that is not a dream, but a memory – a memory that is not Astra's, but her mother's memory, R'anee's memory – which feels fresh and old and raw, blooming without pause._

" _R'anee."_

_Astra's mother turns towards the sound of her mate's voice, stomach round and swollen with growing life, hand placed tenderly over her jutting midsection. Her robes are murky in color, traditional for pregnant women, and her hair is pinned in elaborate braids. She had been gazing through the glass window of the observation room, watching the young boy they called Khai – his name was more of a title than anything else, and that coldness makes R'anee's heart hurt, more so than the solemn eyes on Khai's young face. Her hand absently rubs over her stomach again. She doesn't want her baby to be in this place._

" _Beloved, you should not be here."_

" _My child should not be here, Am'shel."_

_Am'shel carefully closes the door behind him. "This is not an appropriate place for discussion."_

" _Of that I am aware," R'anee intones. "However, the communication lines are not secure and you needed to be informed that labor is imminent."_

_Am'shel's features become sharper, his stone-toned eyes darting down to R'anee's stomach. "Then it is beginning."_

" _Yes."_

" _We are prepared, wife, I assure you. It was unnecessary to come here and risk the solution."_

_R'anee turns away from her husband, looking back at the young boy sitting quietly in the middle of the room beyond the glass, meditating. "He reminds me of Nah'huel," she says softly. "I could not leave without telling him good-bye."_

_Through their marriage bond, R'anee senses that Am'shel believes her attachment to Khai to be as illogical as his own, but he does not voice this or urge her to forget her emotions to Seven, the first success. His own attachment to the boy had gotten him in trouble; he suspected his superiors knew that Am'shel and R'anee would not adhere to the plan set in place for Thirteen, who they had no idea was female. Yet. Am'shel, ever practical and wary, felt that it was only a matter of time before the Giidas Science Institute discovered the sex of R'anee's child, which is exactly why they had to act so quickly._

_R'anee allows her gaze to linger on Khai for a long moment, wondering if her child would ever meet the young boy in the next room, before resolutely turning away with a wince as another contraction hits. In her womb, the baby's mind reaches forward with an apology. "I will leave now."_

_Am'shel's hand catches R'anee's wrist. "I will be home soon," he tells her, voice ripe with meaning._

_R'anee nods with finality. The moment is far too serious for the joyous event of birth, of new life, but it cannot be any other way._

_The labor itself is quick, as it had been building over the last few sun cycles, and her daughter, pale and flushed pink and lilac, is a quiet, well-behaved baby. R'anee's heart clenches tightly when Nah'huel holds his half-sibling, his face serious and gentle, love in his eyes as he writes 'Izabela' on a starched parchment. Nah'huel assists in the preparations, helping R'anee wrap Izabela in fine blankets, and cover those in grimy cleaning rags, the note with her name tucked between the folds of cloths._

_R'anee is weak from labor when Am'shel arrives home, but insists on finishing the solution, as the timing has been perfected with the departure time of several shuttlecrafts._

_When they leave their home, they take nothing with them._

_They know they will not be returning, one way or another._

_Nah'huel's little hand is tight in R'anee's as they approach the shuttle station, Am'shel leading the way as the adult Giidas peer through the crowd, looking for a specific type of person._

_There._

" _Am'shel," R'anee prods gently, eyes focused on a woman dressed in a flowing, scrappy dress and a dirtied cloak. The woman is clearly Terran and several years older than R'anee – which means that she is perfect._

_Her name is Nanini and she is a gypsy, a traveler, someone who cannot be tracked. Nanini is reluctant to take Izabela until she sees the blind desperation in R'anee's eyes. "This baby is special," Nanini says, cradling Izabela against her chest, her eyes cautious on the oblivious crowd around them._

" _Indeed," R'anee agrees, glancing at her mate. "But we cannot protect her from her intended fate."_

" _I have no idea what that means," the gypsy says. "But I'll do my best. And maybe you'll find us someday."_

_R'anee knows, in the depths of her soul, that this will be the last time she lays eyes on the child that is half-hers. She does not correct Nanini's belief, though – doesn't want to risk Izabela's safety by delaying the inevitable any longer. R'anee reaches her hand forward, silver-tipped fingers brushing against the soft skin of her clan's female heir; with practiced ease, as R'anee was trained by the best bond shamans, she delves into Izabela's mind, transferring her own memories into the depths of the baby's mindscape, creating a strong barrier to hide them, manipulating the Giidas metabolic functions and traits until Izabela appears to be more Terran than not. R'anee cannot bring herself to cut the bond she has to the child, and allows the current moments to seep into Izabela's mind._

_And though Giidas did not believe in it, R'anee thought that, with a bit of luck, Izabela would grow up and live her life without ever knowing that she was half Terran-half Giidas, or knowing that she was genetically designed to be an omnilinguist, or knowing any of R'anee's memories, which were now locked into Izabela's mind with a failsafe that prevented anyone other than a psi-strong Giidas to open them._

_R'anee's hand falls away from her child's forehead as a wave of weakness crests over her body. Perhaps it was unwise to move so much so soon after labor, but there was nothing to be done about it._

" _Perhaps you will find us one day," R'anee tells the gypsy woman for the sake of comfort._

" _Your shuttlecraft is boarding," Am'shel reminds Nanini, eyes leaving the baby cradled in the gypsy's arms._

_Nanini pauses, gazing at the three Giidas before her, sensing the resignation and finality – and then, she hears the toneless yelling, and, with wide eyes, looks to the crowd._

_Am'shel's face pinches. "Go, woman," he urges. "Leave now."_

_Nanini, sensing the weight of responsibility on her shoulders, nods, and boards the shuttlecraft. R'anee and Nah'huel watch the blue-green engine fire start as the shuttlecraft rises slowly._

" _Am'shel!"_

_Am'shel, his face carefully composed, turns to greet his superior. "Ed'vard."_

" _Your wife has given birth," the lead scientist cuts in ruthlessly, his blank tone loud in the sudden silence of the shuttle station as several guards clear out the civilians from the building. "Where is the child?"_

" _Gone," R'anee answers him._

" _That was not the agreement."_

_Chin held high, R'anee focuses on remaining fearless, knowing that the bond between her mind and Izabela's is still strong – knowing that this would be a memory that Izabela would be forced to keep. "The agreement is void. I recant my permission. The child is half-mine, and I shall decide what fate it will have."_

_Ed'vard's face slips into a frosty glare and he reaches for the laser gun that one of the Giidas guards is holding. He points the gun at Nah'huel. "You have decided the fate of one of my experiments. I shall decide the fate of one of yours," he says coldly._

_The gun fires._

_Nah'huel's body falls, crumpled and broken, a thin circular mark through his forehead, eyes open and calm. He did not have time to become terrified._

_R'anee screams, drops to her knees, pulls her child against her chest, crying openly as several guards at the shuttle station look on with blank faces. Am'shell growls and lunges towards Ed'vard – and the guards surrounding the head scientist shoot him several times. The marriage bond between Am'shel and R'anee shatters as the scent of his death permeates the station._

_Ed'vard steps forward and grabs R'anee's chin, forcing her to look up at him. "You should have given me the child," he tells her. "Surely it was not worth the life of your mate and your firstborn."_

_R'anee says nothing – she cannot, she is crying too hard, and she still has the pride of a High Clan female, despite all that has just been ripped from her life._

" _Tell me where the child has gone."_

" _I will not," she bites out, feeling a red haze in her vision – partly from the death of her bond-mate and her Nah'huel. She clutches her son's body against her own, feeling the heat leave his skin. "I will never."_

" _Then you, too, will die," Ed'vard says, pressing the laser gun against R'anee's forehead._

_It fires._

_And, with it, the bond between mother and child fades, along with the last of R'anee's memories._

***N*O*V*A***

_T'HY'LA!_

_He killed them! He killed them!_

_Astra, come back to me!_

_He killed them!_

_Hayal!_

_They're gone! She knew!_

_Stop crying!_

_And he killed them! They gave up everything for me!_

_Adun'a, I cannot fix what I do not understand has broken!_

_Your father! He killed them! My family! Murder!_

_I do not understand-_

_Did you know!?_

_What-_

_DID YOU KNOW?_

_No! T'hy'la, what are you speaking of?_

Astra pushes all of R'anee's memories towards Khai with one ruthless, forceful shove, the feeling of hot tears leaking down her face as she sobs into Khai's naked shoulder, his arms strong and tense around her body as he absorbs the memories of her mother – the memories that R'anee had locked away into the depths of Astra's mind.

Khai's mind goes blank when his father pulls the final trigger.

They are silent, save for Astra's uncontrollable mourning, for a long moment.

_T'hy'la, believe me when I say that I did not know he was capable of this._

_I believe you_ , she whimpers, pressing her nose into the crook of his neck.

Khai pulls her body closer, jaw clenched. _I will rectify this injustice. I promise you._

Astra nods against his skin, sinking into their bond as Khai guides her through the grief of the family she had never and would never know.

The night is silent.

And Astra, who finally grasps reality with two hands, finally understands her purpose.

* * *


	31. Part 2: 9

**9**

_London, Terra, 2621_

Astra didn't think freckles belonged to a being that was genetically designed to be a walking, breathing, _living_ , translation communication system. It didn't seem right. Such a person should be plain, lacking decoration, easily overlooked. And yet, _she_ had freckles – quite a few freckles, too, each a light brown, and concentrated on her nose, dotted down her neck, a cluster on her left shoulder, a smattering on her hipbone – and, now that training had morphed her body into a more mature version of herself, she was not so easily overlooked. In fact, she seemed to be _more_ noticeable now that she had married Khai and consummated their bond in the Giidas way – her skin seemed to shimmer under bright lights, subtly but detectable, and the silver tips of her nails seemed lighter. She hadn't anticipated any physical changes to her body, not after her body had already been changing, coming more into her Giidas genetics; but her skin was paler, softer, her dark hair enriched with reddish-purple undertones, her lips pinker, eyelashes longer, and her _freckles_ a shade darker. She looked healthy, happy, and decidedly _not_ some sort of experiment that was created to translate any language she stumbled across.

Astra suspected that she wasn't supposed to be female, though – and maybe that was _why_ she was raised by Nanini instead of the same laboratory as Khai. The only conclusion Astra could draw was that, had she been born male, her life would have mirrored Khai's in every way; she would be the property of the Federation and fed half-truths that were designed to make Khai into more of a machine than a male.

Gender.

It was a silly thought. For as advanced as the collective Federation society was, the thought that _gender_ of all things would be a factor in a person's destiny was rather archaic. Astra thought that, despite the discrimination of the gypsies, society would have accepted that a woman could do a man's job just as well as a man and vice versa. And maybe, the majority of society had – and just Giidas were behind on the times. From what Astra knew of the Giidas society, there did seem to be certain roles assigned to each gender.

She didn't want to think that half of her genetic culture would have raised her to be a breeder, though. It didn't seem right or logical. Yet...R'anee's memories had seemed certain that breeding would be a female child's fate.

_R'anee's memories._

It was disorienting, of course, to have her mother's last memories crammed into her mind. Disorienting and alarming. Worrisome. Disturbing. At first, Astra didn't understand why those memories were locked up in her mind. It didn't seem _right_ that she should experience that, re-live the deaths of her half-brother, of her mother, of the scientist Am'shel who loved R'anee and wanted to save Khai. But, then, it made sense – Astra knew, from her personal experience – that bonds didn't fade away after contact ceased. Wasn't it a fleeting touch of Khai's hand that had unlocked Astra's memories in the first place? The sheer power of the Giidas telepathy was lingering, a phenomenon riddled with side-effects if unprepared; and Astra, as a newly born baby, had no such defenses, and R'anee was not able to close the fading bond long enough to shield her child from exposure of those particular memories.

The entire situation was beyond tragic.

And Astra was having trouble coming to terms with the fact that _this was her life._ Those things happened to _her_ , to her family.

Fate was cruel.

It wasn't enough that Astra had grown up starving, running for her life, learning to _kill or be killed_ , suffering through discrimination for being raised a gypsy. It wasn't enough that she hallucinated and bled for her talents. _No_. Fate had also given her a horribly, tragically unfair past, hidden in the depths of her mind behind a barrier created by her mother.

Astra scowls, looking away from the mirror she had been gazing at, looking away from her reflection, which suddenly seemed… _designed_ instead of grown into. She couldn't be sure if her freckles, which she had both detested and cherished at various points in her young life, were a gene passed on or something that was chosen _for_ her.

She wondered if Khai ever had the same thoughts.

With a deep breath, Astra forces herself to think of something else. Like Khai's bathroom, which was almost painfully utilitarian; in fact, his entire flat was utilitarian in the extreme, save for the decisive deep emerald color of his walls. She could count on one hand the amount of actual furniture that he had in his home, and even then, she was counting the closet, which was built into his wall. White floors, chrome details, barren of decoration or humanoid touch; spotless; Khai had even made his bed within seconds of them both getting out of bed, with new, crisp sheets and folded tight corners. It struck her how _military_ Khai was, and it was odd because despite the fact that he was a bio-weapon, she never thought of him in such a way. And though she loved his body, mind, and soul, she was jarred to discover exactly how conditioned Khai was; the little glimpses of his personality, then, were precious to her.

For example, the fact that Khai was a biter.

Astra leans toward the mirror once more, peering at the dark bruised bite mark at the juncture of her shoulder, the indentation of slightly sharp teeth clear in her skin. Khai was a walking dichotomy; seemingly emotionless, but passionate; a gentle, possessive lover; straightforward, but cunning.

 _Adun'a_. Khai tugs tenderly on their bond, drawing her attention so that Astra will tune back into his thoughts. This new bond, this _completed_ bond, was blindingly quick, achingly clear – they could hide nothing from each other and Astra found that she preferred it that way. She enjoyed the constant complex hum of his thoughts, though they were, for the most part, too speedy for her to get a handle on. She took comfort in the fact that, sometimes, she thought in languages that Khai did not know. It leveled the playing field, for the most part.

_Hmm?_

_I am informing the Federation of our marriage._

Astra didn't find this surprising in the slightest. She turns from the mirror with finality and navigates through Khai's home, finding him sitting straight on the low, square black couch in his living room, Pad in his lap, fingers typing holo-keys with precision. He glances up at her, the steel-tone of his eyes darkening as they linger on the exposed mark on her neck. He says nothing as she sits beside him, watching as he fills out the long form.

"What's on this form, anyway?"

"The majority of the documentation is a promissory agreement that we will not be emotionally compromised on away-missions," he replies easily. _It is mostly for appearances, t'hy'la._

Astra rests her head on the side of his arm, her lips twitching when she catches the tenor of his thoughts in response to her casual touch – he likes it, finds her touch comforting. She watched him fill out the form and then, without any hesitation, press his thumbprint beside his electronic signature, before turning the Pad so that she can do the same.

They share a heated kiss when the form is submitted and the Pad is put away, Khai's hands tugging at her clothes, his body pressing over hers.

Astra will never be able to look at Khai's couch the same way.

***N*O*V*A***

Astra is not the least bit shocked that, two days after the form was submitted, she receives a summons from the Admiralty – and for more than one reason. Most cadets had been receiving similar messages, as the Admiralty was completing the task of assigning the graduates to their commissions before the week was out and all of the graduated cadets had to leave campus. As Astra opens the message, a brow quirks as she discovers that her message was a little different from Mari'Ahlice's and Rosy's.

 _I have a summons for 9 AM_. She tells Khai across the bond, which is no longer hindered by distance, at least, the distance from her dorm to Khai's flat, which is several miles. She wonders how far she can distance herself physically from Khai before the bond becomes strained.

_As do I, adun'a. We will be attending simultaneously._

Astra wasn't surprised by that, either.

She takes a sonic shower, smiling a bit when she sets the scent to honey, knowing that Khai enjoyed the combination of the artificial sweetness and the tea-like scent that was naturally hers. Unlike before, when they were not married and bonded, Khai does not turn away from Astra's thoughts when her body is naked – though, to be fair, her husband does not actively leer, either.

A full hour before her appointment, Astra is dressed comfortably in her black uniform, her saber strapped across her hip as she quietly leaves her dorm room. Mari'Ahlice was the only other person in the dorm and she prayed to her Gods quite early in the mornings before setting off to design a new space-map calibration in the computer labs; Rosy had taken to staying with Emet in his hotel and only showed her face after lunch, usually covered in grease as she worked on improving her warp core design; and Astra, for her part, tended to spend her time idly sparring with Ja'asper when she was not helping Khai finish grading undergraduate papers, still acting as his teaching aid. Astra was entertained by the notion that she and her roommates had peculiar downtime routines; they were essentially on vacation and, as far as they were concerned, that meant extra time perfecting their skills.

Astra idly fiddles with her silver li'lute case on the hover-bus, wondering if she would be able to stop later to play beneath Big Ben again. She was in uniform, though – and being an officer of the Federation, Astra now had to think about appearances. If there was anything at all that she could complain about, it was the minor loss of freedom she felt by being tied to the government; she wasn't used to restrictions and didn't think she ever would be.

Khai, who had been tuning into her thoughts, expressed a short burst of confusion from those thoughts – he didn't understand what she meant by a loss of freedom, as he felt plenty free as an officer. But then, Khai would likely never understand Astra's exact feelings given the way he was raised, to which he logically conceded.

 _It's not that I feel caged,_ she is quick to assure him. _But I'm used to just…doing exactly what I want when I want to. Being at the Academy was jarring._

_Indeed._

Astra laughs through her nose, earning a startled look from one of the passengers sitting next to her. She looks out the window to hide the rising flush on her face.

_I am unsure as to why my agreement was amusing, t'hy'la._

_I'm not laughing_ at _you, Khai._

Through the bond, she gets the impression that he has raised a single brow.

_I might have laughed at you just a little bit._

_Interesting._

Astra giggles.

Khai's mind launches into a detailed examination of her _odd_ behavior, which he eventually postulates is a direct result of Astra's Terran genes; he also hypothesizes that he may have been unconsciously performing humorous antics in order to experience Astra's unrestrained bright flashes of amusement.

Astra tells him that he is very sweet.

Khai then tells her that she is illogical because chemically, he is made more of sodium than sugar.

Astra rolls her eyes – she's onto his game, now, and suspects that he might be pretending not to understand her colloquialisms on purpose. _Do you fake it with Emet, too?_

_I genuinely do not comprehend the meaning behind his preferred phrasings._

A quick thought flashes through Astra's head that perhaps she should purchase a book of idioms for Khai, which Khai finds _fascinating_.

Astra is still smiling from their conversation when she steps off of the hover-bus, looking up at the pristine white building of the Federation Admiralty. London was no longer entrenched in slushy grey snow; spring had begun to bloom between bouts of warm, misty rain, and tiny flowers sprung up between blades of bright green grass and large puddles of dirtied water. Astra remembers traveling through Northern America around this time the year previous, her mind recalling the wild, untamed countryside's, and the rowdy crowds. She much prefers the focused bustle of London.

Khai is waiting for her inside the lobby, dressed in his pitch-black uniform, all hard lines and tall, sinewy body, hands clasped behind his back, dark bronze hair hopelessly riotous. Astra resists the urge to fix the wild locks for him, aware of the proper behavior of mated Giidas; even if they were surrounded by Terrans, for the most part, there were certain social functions that had been ingrained in Khai, and Astra herself was not overly fond of public displays. She'd much rather sidle up to him and greet him with a warm wave of affection through their bond, and that is exactly what she did.

Khai's steel-toned eyes might have flashed with lavender love for a brief moment.

Astra might have offered the barest twitch of her lips.

Their gazes did not linger, not even when they were alone in the turbo-lift and Khai gently hooked his forefinger around her own for a moment, delivering a telepathic kiss bathed in serene confidence. He was not concerned with the upcoming meeting, which they both knew would be discussing the abrupt change in their relationship.

Admiral Caius, the Falleen Head of the Federation Admiralty, and Admiral Aro, the highest-ranking instructor of the Federation Academies were among the board of admirals that Astra and Khai were ushered to once they arrived on the correct floor. They stood in front of the long table, saluting their superior officers, necks rigid, chins level to the floor; Astra had arranged her cloak so that her left shoulder was exposed, along with her saber.

"At ease, Commander, Ensign," Admiral Caius says after a long moment, his slit pupils relax as he steeples his fingers beneath his chin, sharpened nails pressing into reptilian skin. "I suppose you understand why you've been summoned, today?"

"Indeed, Admiral," Khai answers for them, subtly stepping forward a few inches, while Astra adjusts her stance to be just a step back and to the right of Khai, taking the traditional Giidas arranged posture of a mated pair, while still managing to maintain her equal status as a Federation officer, which was a topic of long discussion a few days ago. The way Khai and Astra presented themselves in public was a great compromise and suited both of them quite fine; Khai did not want Astra subservient and Astra did not want to be totally submissive, as she never had been in her life and she wasn't about to start just because she was _married_.

"We have standard questions, then," Admiral Caius tells them, while another Admiral taps on a Pad, which projects the exact form Khai had filled out regarding their marriage. "The relationship began, when, exactly?"

"Eight months, thirteen days, five hours, twenty-seven minutes, and 9.5 seconds ago," Khai answers promptly as a computer system records his voice. "At the time, we were aware of the _Shan'hal'lak_ but pursued no further contact until three months, 2 days, 17 hours, and forty-seven minutes ago."

"And this contact was…?"

"Sexual in nature," Khai intones, ignoring Astra's flash of embarrassment with a bluntness that she had not anticipated. "But not explicit. I left for the Gamma Quadrant directly afterward and entertained no further contact with Cadet Astra until my return planet-side, where she again became my teaching aid. Our relationship was not consummated until after the graduation ceremony."

Khai's bland tone is punctuated by a low beep of the recording system and the room is silent for a moment before Admiral Aro clears his throat. "Ensign Astra, during the course of your relationship with Commander Khai, of which was mostly platonic, from what I understand, did he assist you in any way with your academics?"

"No, Sir," Astra answers, voice steady with the truth. "I required no assistance, as you will see from the comments of my other professors."

"Commander Khai," Admiral Caius starts, his tone slightly reproachful – rather, as reproachful as a Falleen's tone could be. "You understand that it was highly inappropriate to begin a romantic relationship with a cadet?"

"Indeed," Khai agrees. "However, there was very little I could do about it. The _Shan'hal'lak_ is a highly rare occurrence among Giidas and is regarded as a phenomenon that is to be respected."

"And this… _Shean'haale'leek_ -" Astra winces as the thick accent of one of the Admiral's completely butchers the pronunciation. "Is _what?_ "

"Love at first sight, Sir," Astra answers.

"That's not _real_ , Ensign."

Astra narrows her eyes. "I assure you, Sir, that among a telepathic species, it is very real and _very_ easy to confirm."

"Ensign," Admiral Aro says. "To be frank, what would you know about a telepathic species?"

"I am half Giidas, genetically," Astra tells the room, reaching a hand up to tuck her chin-length hair behind her ear, displaying the curved point that was so similar to Khai's. "I was not aware of this until Doctor Carl discovered an abnormality in my blood, which he sent to the Intergalactic Database for confirmation."

"I see," Admiral Caius says slowly, eyes studying the officers in front of them, who, for the world, appeared to be mere acquaintances. "Commander Khai, as a Giidas, you believe it illogical to lie?"

"Indeed, Sir."

"And you, Ensign?"

"I have no reason to lie," Astra tells him. "We've done nothing explicitly _wrong_ , Sir."

Admiral Caius nods. "That's correct. It does not say in any of the conduct regulations that relationships between consenting adults are prohibited. It's merely frowned on for a Professor to be involved with a student, but, again, not prohibited. There is no disciplinary action to take and, truly, I'm not sure if any interaction between a teaching aid and a Professor would fall into the realm of _inappropriate_ , anyway, given the fact that you, Ensign, had already tested out of Commander Khai's classes at the time of the sexual contact. You were not his student. He was not your Professor. And Giidas don't lie."

Several of the Admiral's agree. "We've already had your communication records examined, as well as video logs from the Commander's office, and find no discrepancies past what you've admitted to," one admits, rubbing his chin. "The marriage between you will be sanctioned by the Federation."

And while Astra doesn't appreciate the fact that her first sexual experience was actually caught on tape, let alone viewed by the men and women in this room, as well as tech officers, she can't help but be relieved that she and Khai are out of the warm water they had been wading in.

"As much as I enjoy love stories, I'm afraid I've grown bored with yours," Admiral Aro says with a mirthful smile. "That means that we can move onto the fun part of this meeting, which will be your assigned rank and commission, Ensign Astra."

Astra's eyes flash bright orange with curiosity, an emotion that Khai mirrors through the bond.

"Your academics were easily within the top 5% of your graduating class, as well as your physical training according to Sergeant Dmitri," Admiral Aro announces, reading from his Pad, his tone light. "Not to mention that you completed all of the required academic courses in record time. And during your examination, you were part of the winning group of cadets. Quite impressive for seventeen years old, Ensign," he smiles, looking to Admiral Caius and nodding.

The Admiral stands and rounds the table, standing a few feet from Astra, his towering height rivaling Khai's. In his clawed hands, he holds a flat black box, opened to reveal velvet with a silver pin in the shape of a three-pointed star pressed in, not unlike the five-pointed star pinned onto Khai's uniform, the one that Astra had never given much thought. "On behalf of the Federation Admiralty, I would like to extend to you the promotion from Ensign to Lieutenant, if you would be willing to accept."

Astra blinks, almost reeling from the sudden jump. She knew that she performed well at the Academy – but she had no _idea_ that she would be promoted that high so quickly.

She nods, suppressing a smile. "I accept, Sir."

Admiral Caius passes the box. "Glad to hear it, Lieutenant."

Astra's eyes are bright pink with happiness.

"The Federation would also like to extend an invitation aboard the starship _Nova_ as the Lieutenant Communication Officer," Admiral Caius continues.

Astra allows a tiny smile, a sudden weight of pressure falling off her shoulders. She hadn't been sure that she would be assigned to the same starship as Khai – but now… "I would love to, Admiral," she replies, pulling her black box closer to her chest with one hand.

"Very well," he responds.

"I believe this meeting is adjourned," Admiral Aro cuts in, standing.

Astra and Khai turn to the table of standing admirals, saluting in synch, their bond humming with relief and, from Khai, a steady stream of pride as Admiral Caius dismisses them.

With a giddy feeling in the pit of her stomach, Astra attaches her Lieutenant pin onto the clasp of her jet-black uniform cloak as she and Khai board the turbolift, which they once again do not have to share. "How does it look?" she asks Khai.

Much to her amusement, Khai reaches to the red button to stop the turbolift while also leaning forward to capture her lips. _It is satisfactory, adun'a_ , he answers, unable and unwilling to mask the surge of emotions he feels at that very moment. His _t'hy'la_ is smart, strong, capable, and ranked high, put in a position that enables him to work alongside her; his _adun'a's_ skills are more than proficient enough to protect them from any future separation.

And as they walk out of the Admiralty building, a Lieutenant and Commander, both Astra and Khai do not notice the blooming stream in their bond, much like the blooming flowers on the London sidewalk.

The happiness, the satisfaction, is heady, as is the impending fate.


	32. Part 2: 10

**10**

_Cairo, Terra, 2621_

Astra was proud of her foresight while designing her uniform because unlike the other officers around her, who were sweltering beneath the Egyptian sun while waiting to board the _Nova_ for the test flight, she was perfectly comfortable beneath her temperature-controlled cloak, the hood is drawn up to shade her delicate lily-white skin. Though it was early spring and the perpetual chill on the on-setting ice age was present, the desert outside of Cairo's city was barren, dry, and _hot_ from the high sun beating down on the sand dunes. Ja'asper, in particular, seemed to be struggling with the temperature – from an ice-planet, of course, he was – while Emet was _thriving_. Khai, predictably, appeared to have no physical reaction or any mental indications that he found the weather disagreeable, aside from the indication that he thought _she_ was being illogical by having this particular train of thought.

She looks away from her _adun_ , and back at the towering starship, white and gleaming almost silver in the sun. It was spotless, pristine, and intimidating, all sleek lines and curved walls, and so much larger than Astra remembered it being. Completed, the _Nova_ was easily one of the most beautifully designed starships in the Federation fleet, with three thrusters, twelve decks, and bump towards the front of the ship, where the bridge was located, subtle and complimented by shining windows that enabled the crew to see over 180 degrees. Something fluttered in the pit of her stomach – excitement.

_We will board shortly, adun'a._

_I know_ , she says quickly. _I know. But I want to go now._

Very briefly, Astra catches a stray thought from Khai; he found her excitable youth to be amusing. Had he been Terran, he might have used the word "adorable"; being Giidas, he used "fascinating". Astra was astute enough to translate and hid a smile until she spotted Captain Godric moseying towards their slightly separated group.

"Captain," Khai greets stoically, blinking at his superior emotionlessly. Through the bond, Astra was able to discern a wave of respect and admiration and her heart felt light, knowing that though Khai suppressed those emotions, he still felt them, and that was more than enough for her.

"Commander Khai, and Lieutenant Emet, nice to see you," Captain Godric says with a smile, nodding at both aliens, before turning his gaze on Astra. "And look at you. A Lieutenant already; I know how to pick them."

"I'm glad to see you, Sir," Astra says.

Captain Godric shakes his head, wincing. "None of that, now. You call me Charles."

"Can I call you Charles?" Emet asks eagerly.

"No."

Rosy rolls her eyes at Emet's expression, and turns back to her conversation with Lieutenant Angela, who appeared as unruffled as ever, even given the extreme temperature; Astra thought that maybe, working on the Engineering Deck made Angela a bit more acclimated to hotter climates than most officers.

"How've you been, Khai?" Charles asks, a familiarity in his posture that Astra hadn't noticed before. Charles Godric was perhaps the most comfortable Terran she'd ever seen around Khai, which was good. Khai needed that.

"I have been well, Captain," Khai responds blandly. "I am now married," he adds and, almost as an afterthought, glances at Astra for a long moment.

Charles' eyes widen and he notes the careful foot of distance between his First Officer and his Lieutenant of Communications. If Khai hadn't said anything, he wouldn't have been able to guess.

And, as it turns out, neither would any of Astra's friends, except for Mari'Ahlice, who smiled serenely, as if knowing that this very moment would come, as Rosy looked sharply at Astra, and Ja'asper seemed to be a little amused by the notion.

" _Married?_ When did this happen?" Rosy demands, her hands moving to rest on her hips, scowl in place. Beside her, Emet suppresses a smile, and mimics Rosy, placing his hands on his hips; the sight was more comical than intimidating, with Emet's hip jutted out to the side, and a twinkle in his bronze-gold eyes.

"For the record," Ja'asper injects wryly, metal joints and tattoos glinting in the high sun. "I'd like to know, too."

"After graduation," Astra says calmly.

"That was a _week_ ago."

"I knew of the nuptials," Mari'Ahlice tells the group.

"And you didn't tell me?" Rosy asks, rounding on Ahlice and shooting a weak glare at Emet when she sees his mimicry posture, which he quickly drops with a sheepish smile.

"You did not tell us when you mated Emet," Ahlice reasons. "I did not feel it was my place to inform you."

Rosy snaps her mouth closed and shrugs. "Yeah, fine. Right. So, we're both permanently off the market."

"I am, as well," Ahlice reveals, turning her rose-quartz eyes to gaze softly at Ja'asper with a gentle smile. Ja'asper's cool demeanor softens just a bit, his hand curling over Ahlice's shoulder.

"When did the Academy turn into a finishing school?" Charles wonders, muttering to himself, staring at this group of young people who were all excellent in their fields and who had all managed to get on the _Nova's_ test flight, as well as the _Nova's_ commission. "I didn't get hitched when I graduated."

Doctor Carl, who had been content to watch the scene unfold, as it distracted him from the terrifying fact that he was about to _be in space_ , covertly glances at Nurse Esmeralda, tapping his fingers against his thighs, and wonders why _they_ didn't get married because it seemed like everyone else did. He blanches as he realizes that he didn't even think about asking. He'd have to remedy that soon.

"Must be something in the water!" Emet says happily.

Khai frowns, a tiny twitch of his lips. "There have been no artificial supplements added to the Academy's water filtration system that would induce a phenomenon of romantic entanglements."

Emet snorts, reaches over, and claps Khai on the back. "You're hilarious."

_Adun'a. I am unsure as to why-_

_He was being facetious._

_Illogical._

Captain Godric shakes his head with a sigh, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "Now that everyone's secrets have been revealed," he begins, gesturing over to the _Nova_. "I came over to escort you onto the ship myself."

Astra's heart leaps in excitement and she falls in line slightly behind Khai, deciding the moment that her foot touches the boarding ramp that she never, ever wanted to leave this ship. Khai responded to this thought with a twitch of agreement and, in that tiny moment, Astra realized how much _Khai_ loved to be on a starship. Until that second, Astra had not appreciated Khai's feelings on the matter – because despite being a weapon and sold to the Federation, Khai truly did enjoy his occupation, the reason why he was created, as much as a Giidas could. He liked being in space as much as Astra _wanted_ to be in space.

Inside, the _Nova_ is bustling with movement, lower-ranking ensigns and petty officers bustling through the wide, oval-shaped hallways, which were a crisp white, the floors smooth and spotless, but textured with bare hints of friction resistance; on either side of the wall, there were twin strips of silver-black metal, which Khai indicated were built-in gravity-correction fields. As their group walks onto the first deck, which was used for storage, Charles explains that the _Nova_ had twenty different decks and twelve sub-decks, which were used for crew housing. The tour of the _Nova_ , now that it was completed, was much different than the one preview Astra had been afforded several months ago; it was surreal to see the entire starship completed and ready to be navigated through the known universe, especially since the last time she'd seen the ship, the majority of the walls had been open, exposing hanging wires and machinery that Astra was unfamiliar with.

Charles takes their group on a brief tour to each of the decks, introducing the fledgling crew to their new home – of which certain crewmembers, like Lieutenant Angela and Lieutenant Junior Ben stopped off at certain decks - before finishing at the bridge, which was already stationed with seasoned officers. Astra gravitated towards the Communications Desk, glancing at the console over the shoulder of an officer she didn't recognize; Khai approaches his empty station with ease, tapping on the holo-screen to personalize the system, a quarter of his concentration devoted to his _adun'a's_ mesmerizing excitement.

Captain Godric steps onto the platform that housed his chair and console, and spins on his heel, mustering up authority befitting a captain. "Crew. This is the test flight of the _United Federation Starship Nova_. Today, we have guests aboard – fresh graduates from the London Academy, who will be on the Observation Deck. Let's make this run smoothly."

Astra takes a step back and rejoins her small group, casting a glance at Khai, who was watching her with a blank expression. _I guess I'll see you later._

 _Enjoy this experience, t'hy'la_.

A smile spreads across her face in response to his words. Khai had just abandoned logic _for her_ by being _nice_. It brought back memories of the first time Astra started feeling something for Khai, inducing a warm, fluttery, buttery feeling that spread from her side of the bond to his. _I will_ , she tells him, following Mari'Ahlice and Ja'asper onto the turbolift.

The Observation Deck is designed for dignitaries, with the idea in mind that a completely unhindered view of the space outside the ship would make for a wonderful story to tell later on; the deck is the upper-most area of the ship, about a quarter of the size of other decks, and furnished with lavish, cushy couches, a long, low table with a Replicator built-in, and softened lights mounted on the floor, bathing the deck in a gentle glow that did not compete with the clear dome that made up the ceiling or the otherwise utilitarian design of the room.

Astra and Mari'Ahlice were charmed by the deck; Rosy was busy examining the construction of the dome; Ja'asper simply draped his lanky form over one of the couches; and Doctor Carl, with Nurse Esme by his side, turned right back around and tried to step back onto the turbolift.

"Carl?"

"It's not safe! I can _see the sky_!"

Astra glances over her shoulder, taking note of the gentle, familiar way Nurse Esme rubbed her hand over Carl's shoulder. She sighs and, with a smile, approaches her over-protective brother-figure, exchanging an exasperated look with Esme. "This is totally safe, Carl."

"What if we're attacked? We're not protected! Oh _God_. We're going to be in space! _Space!_ People can't fly! This isn't right! It's unnatural! I'm going to be sick!"

"Snap out of it, Doc," Rosy says from across the room, her tone unapologetic. "You know what you signed up for. This is it."

Doctor Carl is not comforted by the engineer's words, and he appears positively _green_ when a smooth vibration begins below their feet; the starships thrusters have just been turned on.

"I changed my mind," he says, eyes wide. "I want to go back. Do you know how many ways you can die in space?"

"It's just a test flight, Carl," Astra tells him. "We'll be back on Terra before you can finish your panic attack."

_Adun'a._

_Hmm?_

_It is recommended that all personnel be seated for take-off._

_Right._ Astra directs her group to sit on the couches, making a point to sit beside Carl, idly thinking how convenient it was to be able to communicate instantly with Khai on the starship; she imagined that during emergencies, this asset would be especially helpful. Khai agrees.

Carl leans over, putting his head between his knees while Nurse Esme rubs his back. Astra raises a brow, silently asking if Carl would be okay, and Esme responds by tapping on Carl's spine in a familiar pattern – _tap-tap, tap-tap_. He seems to relax slightly in response.

"Just breathe, Carl," Astra tells him.

On her other side, she hears Rosy ask Mari'Ahlice if the Doctor will be releasing the contents of his stomach at any point during take-off; she's relieved that Ahlice indicates, in that cryptic way of hers, that they will be safe from Carl's reversible digestive system.

"We won't die, right?"

"We're not going to die," Esme reassures him.

Astra isn't sure that her comfort is as effective as it could have been, because in the next moment, the _Nova_ 's thrusters propel the starship from the ground with one jolt, which is more of a lurch, and then she can almost feel the smooth glide as the starship fires faster, pushing upwards through the atmospheric layers of Terra. Her full attention is dedicated to watching the hot red burning of atmosphere friction as the _Nova_ breaks through and into space; she smiles at the actual feeling of zero gravity, which fades rather quickly as the starship engages Terra gravity on-board. The entire liftoff might have taken around an hour, but it was over far too quickly for Astra – except, now she was face-to-face with the stars. She stands, walking to the edge of the dome, pressing her palm against the translucent material.

_I'm really in space._

_Indeed, adun'a. The Captain indicates that he would be receptive to-_

Khai's thought cuts off.

His thoughts _never_ do that.

Instantly, Astra is on alert, her body tensed – the military training of Ja'asper's Me'atal tutoring bleeds into her posture, and Ja'asper is halfway across the room in a moment.

"What is it? Astra?"

"Shhh," she hushes, holding a hand out, palm up, head tilted to the side.

Distantly, she realizes that the rest of the observation deck is breathlessly quiet, watching Astra's suddenly odd behavior with a healthy dose of hesitance. Something was _wrong_.

_Khai?_

_Adun'a…_

_What's happened_? Astra demands. It was frustrating to her that she couldn't get a grip on his fast thoughts – they were moving too quickly for her to even glimpse, but she knew _something_ was happening, _something_ was wrong, and she had a feeling that _she_ would be needed to fix it. _Tell me, adun._

_It is another starship._

Astra's eyes dart to the black void beyond the observation dome, looking for the threat, because the _way_ Khai said it, it made it sound like this starship _was not familiar to the Federation_. And, as far as Astra knew, there was _only_ the Federation.

Something _else_ was out there.

Waiting for them.

"Astra?"

It takes a long moment – too long, really – before she spots the ship. It's much smaller and darker than she was accustomed to, which is why it took so long to find it; the starship is a sixth the size of the _Nova_ , and black, armed with moving spikes that glow red and orange. From the design, Astra guessed it was some sort of military ship – the only reason the _Nova_ was so large was that it was an exploration ship with the side-occupation of transporting dignitaries. The _Nova_ had to be nice, and large enough to house the crew required for such a massive ship, as well as the labs required for missions.

This other ship, though…it was designed with efficiency. It was designed to kill.

And despite its size, Astra was certain it was designed to kill _them_.

"What _is_ that?"

Astra hardly has the chance to form her thoughts before, with a speed that surprises even _Khai_ , the foreign starship shoots yellow-orange beams towards the _Nova_ , and everything seems to be intangible for a prolonged, terrifying moment.

Khai's thoughts reach out to her as Astra opens her eyes, immediately searching for the threat of the foreign ship and-

_What is that planet?_

Behind the small black starship, a planet roughly the size of Terra sits in the abyss of space, and looks to have, at one point, supported life; the large chunks of land are blackened and brown, and the seas are awash in worrisome dark green and blue; the atmosphere is thick and dark; and the planet itself is surrounded by chunks of asteroids and meteorites, which surround the planet in a desolate ring of destruction. For a moment, Astra wonders if she is seeing the future of _Terra_ , because the similarities between the planets are astounding, save for the fact that this planet looks _dead_.

Behind her, Astra hears muffled groaning, and turns her neck, surprised to find herself seated on the floor, leaning on her knees – Doctor Carl and Nurse Esme are clutching each other against the couch, Ja'asper has Ahlice pulled tightly against his chest as he shields her body with his own, and Rosy is rubbing the ridge of her nose, shaking her head. It took no more than a second for Astra to deduce that the _Nova_ had been transported – somehow – to another region in space. She was willing to bet that this particular region was previously uncharted by the Federation, which would explain why the Federation didn't know there were things _other than the Federation_ , which begged the question of where _exactly_ they were and – her thoughts were too jumbled, so she greeted Khai's with a warm wave of affection, flavored by a base amount of fear.

_Adun'a – what is your status?_

_Khai…I…we're all alive. Are you-?_

_The bridge crew was sufficiently protected during the transit, as well as the rest of the crew on-ship. We are operating with the bare minimum of crewmembers, so it is taking more time than projected to check each sector of the ship._

_But_ you _are okay?_

_I am satisfactory._

"What just _happened_?" Rosy demands, pushing up from the floor, one of her hands falling to the subtle tool belt around her waist as if preparing to _fix_ something.

Astra shifts onto her feet. "I think we've been transported."

"By _what_?"

"A very small ship," Astra replies, her expression as blank as any Giidas. Her eyes are locked onto the ship, which appears to be as benign as imaginable.

Ja'asper stands, holding his hand out to Ahlice, who takes his metal-jointed fingers daintily. "Do you know what is going on?"

"Fate," Ahlice replies simply.

"You _knew_ this was going to happen?" Rosy demands, her bronze-gold eyes colder than ice, and her expression hard, unforgiving; Astra understands her point, however unspoken.

Ahlice chooses not to answer.

Overhead, the ship's AI system _beeps_ on, and Captain Godric's voice sounds over the speaker. _"This is your Captain speaking. A foreign vessel has transported us to an unknown quadrant and it has come to my attention that the engine thrusters were damaged during transport. All crew remain at your stations and prepare for battle – be on standby. We're not going down without one hell of a fight. Godric out._ "

Rosy lifts her chin, turning away from Alice's serene face. "They'll need me in Engineering," she says, moving towards the sliding door. "I can get the thrusters online faster than just about anybody."

Doctor Carl, who had stood up sometime during Captain Godric's announcement, nods, a trickle of nervous sweat running down the side of his face. He looks at his nurse as they flee out the door. "We should get to the med bay, in case there are injuries."

"Astra," Ahlice begins, her tone as far away as her eyes. "You will be needed on the bridge. Ja'asper and I shall accompany you."

Astra nods, ignoring the fact that she was directly disobeying orders from a superior officer – but Rosy was right to leave the Observation Deck in favor of a part of the ship that actually needed her and Astra was sure that her particular skills would be better spent on the bridge. And, if Mari'Ahlice said that Astra needed to be on the bridge, then that was exactly where Astra was going to go – she trusted the Piarie psychic with her life.

The bridge is in full-motion when the turbolift doors open, officers frantic at their control systems, which appear to be malfunctioning to a certain degree. Astra is sure the foreign ship is the cause of that – perhaps they have another piece of technology that renders the _Nova_ helpless. It's a frightening thought.

Khai, who had been minutely aware that Astra was going to board the bridge, is standing in front of a dozen holo-screens, each a slightly different color, an almost-frown on his face. Through the bond, Astra could feel his caution, which was laced with fear for _her_ , though not for himself. He knew the protocol for a situation such as this, but he wasn't sure protocol was appropriate; the protocol, of course, was designed for areas of space that the _Federation was exploring_ , not for when the Federation was transported into foreign space. There had to be a specific difference in the way this particular issue was dealt with.

Captain Godric, on the other hand, didn't seem to care too much about protocol, at least from what Astra could tell. He was leaning over Emet's shoulder as the navigator beside Emet hurriedly tries to specify the _Nova's_ location, without much luck. "You get us home as soon as the thrusters are repaired, Emet, because I don't want to start a war, but I _will_ fire at that ship, no questions asked. No alien is going to come and transport _my crew_ and get away with it."

"Captain, we cannot engage weaponry maneuvers without further provocation," Khai injects from across the bridge, his smooth, monotone baritone carrying across the space. "Such action directly defies the Prime-"

"Khai, _screw_ the Prime-"

"Captain, it would be most logical to-"

"Take your logic and shove it up your-"

"That is not anatomically possible, Captain-"

"You wanna bet-"

Astra steps onto the bridge, cautiously, eyeing the arguing Captain and Commander; it was faintly amusing that they chose _now_ to argue, but, more than anything, it was enlightening. Captain Godric was so _Terran_ , letting his emotions fly free – it was what made him a great Captain – while Khai, in contrast, was refusing to let his emotions color his actions. They balanced each other out. She wondered how often they argued in the past because the last few lines seemed almost _routine._

 _Disagreements of opinion happen on board frequently_ , Khai concedes through the bond. _You should not be here._

_Mari'Ahlice says that I will be needed. Until then, I won't take up too much space._

Khai says nothing in reply, but she senses his acceptance as he continues to argue tonelessly with Captain Godric, while another part of his mind appears to be doing rapid, complicated calculations.

And then – "Captain!"

Half the crew turns to look at the officer sitting behind the Communications desk. Up until that point, she'd been relatively ignored; now, one hand was pressed to the tiny ear-microphone, the other tapping against the holo-screen, confusion on her face. "I don't recognize this language," she tells the bridge, voice frantic. "I don't know this language!"

"They sent a communication message, Captain," Khai states, moving across the bridge to stand behind the Communication Officer's shoulder.

The Captain follows, standing beside Khai. "Do _you_ know the language?"

Khai's answer is quick and certain. "I do not."

"Great," Captain Godric says, pinching his nose in frustration. "These aliens sent a message that we can't even _read_ and-"

"I can read it," Astra interrupts.

The bridge goes silent, peering at Astra with disbelieving eyes.

Through the bond, Astra senses Khai's resounding _NO_ , and promptly ignores it. Instead, she looks to Mari'Ahlice, who nods once, the jingle of her belled circlet echoing in the relative silence of the bridge. This was the exact reason that Ahlice thought Astra needed to be on the bridge, then.

Astra moves to stand between the Captain and the Commander, suddenly sure of her status as a Lieutenant – she had the authority to be on the bridge, to be performing this task, and she relayed that logic to Khai through the bond, which quieted his protective protests. She peers at the holo-screen. The letters appear similar to Arabic, though the structure is more similar to Korean. For a moment, the letters simply look like odd lines with no pattern – and then, her head pulses.

A trickle of blood, a single line from her nose – more purple than red, matching the lilac-pink flush on her lily-white skin as the fever rises along with the onslaught of the language she was rapidly learning. Her head hurts. Everything is fuzzy and hot and _too loud_. The bridge spins, though Astra knows she isn't moving. Is she?

_Adun'a!_

Oh. There's a voice in her head. She knows the voice – _loves_ the voice. Loves the man attached to the voice.

But it's so _cold_ , now. She shivers, wipes the blood from her upper lip, blinks at the bright green holo-screen in front of her. The lines don't look random – of course, they aren't. Those are words. Important words. And where is her li'lute, she always has it-

"Astra," the voice says, except this time the voice is on the outside of her head. She misses hearing it inside. Large, too-hot hands grasp her shoulders gently, turning her until she is eye-level with a lean, familiar chest, and then one of those hands moves, and two fingers press against her temple – and then the voice in her head is louder and stronger, and something moves through her mind with speed and efficiency, and it's cold and calm, like steel.

And the pulsing pain in her head, the heat, and the fever – it all disappears. The fog clears. Astra can literally _feel_ Khai disturbing her metabolic functions through the bond, intrusive yet healing, fixing her suddenly overwhelmed mind. The blood from her nose stems, and he wipes that away with the tips of his fingers. Later, they will have to discuss this psychic healing that Khai is able to do; she was sure the incident with the saber was a fluke, and Khai had admitted to having no idea how he'd done it. Obviously, he'd figured that out.

For now, though, she sighs in relief, her mind sharp with clarity, body balanced. She sends a wave of love and gratitude through the bond, and opens her eyes – she doesn't remember closing them. The bridge crew is looking at Astra and Khai with something akin to shock and she, very belatedly, realizes it's not because of what just happened to _her_ – no, the shock is because _Khai_ was behaving in a decidedly un-Khai way, with the touching, and everything. Astra was sharp enough to realize that, to a certain degree, Khai felt that, basically, they just had sex in the middle of the bridge. It was easy to forget how modest the Giidas race truly was.

But that has to be ignored now – because she understands the message from the small black ship, now. She knows the language.

And the message is disturbing.

"They call themselves the Republic," Astra announces, glancing once again at the harsh language on the holo-screen; in the context of the language, the message was actually cordial, but compared to other languages, _this_ one was all about anger. Silently, she rolls the words on her tongue, feeling the sharp cut of her teeth against air as she mouths the message. "They'd like to speak with us."

"Set up a communications vid to-"

"No, Captain," Astra interrupts, her stomach falling at the expression – the _knowing -_ on Mari'Ahlice's face. "They want to speak in person."

"Can't do that," Charles argues. "I won't. I can't leave my ship or my crew, not in this new space. And I damn sure won't let _them_ come aboard."

"Logically," Khai asserts. "I am the best option to transport onto the Republic ship. I am built to-"

"But you don't know the language!"

Astra glances at Mari'Ahlice and finds guidance in those rose-quartz eyes, which have likely _Seen_ every possible option of the future. "I'll go. I can translate."

_No!_

Khai has no visible reaction, though his mental one is startlingly loud.

Astra ignores him.

Captain Godric looks skeptical. "I know you want to help, but I'm not sure you're medically fit to be transported. You were just _bleeding_ , and-"

"Khai fixed all that," Astra tells him confidently. "I'm more than ready to do this, Captain. And, I should add, I'm more than qualified."

Astra will learn, later on, that Captain Godric was a good captain because he trusted his gut – he didn't hesitate and he operated on what was best for the majority. If he had to sacrifice one life in favor of several, then he was willing to do that.

And that is why, ten minutes later, Astra and Khai are sent down to the transportation deck, right after Engineering had settled the warp core enough that the on-ship transporter was operational. While she and Khai were on board the Republic's ship, the _Nova_ would be undergoing various repairs while trying to get in contact with the Federation. She only hoped she would be able to understand _why_ the Republic had done this in the first place – and why the Republic had been hiding.

But first… _You know, you're going to have to deal with this overprotective, macho thing, Khai. It's sweet, but this isn't the 19_ _th_ _century anymore. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself._

Khai's thoughts, which had been analyzing the upcoming situation from every conceivable angle, come to an abrupt halt. Astra can almost feel him tracing her thought pattern back, trying to find when her thought stemmed from the situation at hand, and becoming puzzled when it seems as if _this_ line of thought came from a tangent out of nowhere.

 _I am…aware of your capabilities, adun'a_ , he says after a long moment, turning to look at her with solemn steel-toned eyes as the turbolift comes to a halt, opening to the Transporter Room. _It is difficult._

Astra caresses the edge of Khai's mind through the bond in assurance. _Work on it, okay? Bickering over what I can and can't do when I_ know _what I can do, only wastes time._

 _Wasting time is illogical_ , he agrees tonelessly, before stepping out of the turbolift with a stony face, hands clasped behind his back, the façade of Commander Khai sliding right onto his skin, not unlike his black armor. He held such quiet authority that even Astra, who knew Khai in the most intimate of ways, who knew his mind as well as his soul, was intimidated, naturally falling half a step behind him as he quickly quizzed the transporter technicians, setting up emergency scenarios that were standard procedure. Astra hung back, silently taking stock of her own preparedness; her saber was ready, as was her li'lute, which was tucked into the inner pocket of her cloak; her body was limber, ready to fight at a moments notice; and, most importantly, the unnamed language that she had just learned was settling deep into her mind, no longer causing fever or delusions thanks to Khai's quick actions.

 _By the way,_ she calls silently, grabbing his attention as the transporter technicians quickly set to work and they step onto the square white platform. _The healing…?_

 _I am unsure as to how I discovered the method which unlocked that particular ability,_ he says uncertainly. _The instinct merely merged with my conscious will and I accessed our bond to fulfill the requirements of the aid._

Astra thinks that, maybe, Khai is admitting, in his own way, that he doesn't even know how he did it. And she accepts that because – what was that old Terran idiom? Don't look a horse-gift in the mouth? She thinks she heard that in the Americas at some point during her childhood.

 _Okay_ , she says, glancing at him, noticing through, through Khai's detailed observations, that her eyes are shining the bright, clear blue that meant insight. _Let's do this, then._

Khai nods once at the technicians, and then they are weightless as the transporter beam locks onto the little black Republic ship. She again reflects on how much she hates the sensation of being transported – but this time, it's something different. _Something_ inside her protests at the disturbance of having her cells reorganized for several long seconds.

She can't think on that, though. Doesn't have the time to, really, because her feet touch down onto solid, smooth ground, and her body shifts into a subtle defensive stance. The room they land in is not unlike the room they left – except, where the _Nova_ is all sleek and white, this ship seems to be all chaos and dark, with countless exposed patches of wiring, and a distinct lack of clear light. It's incredibly disorienting.

From the shadows, a handful of bulky figures emerge, crude versions of laser-rifles slung across their shoulders and aimed directly at Khai. Their appearance is startling, mostly because Astra hadn't expected them to be so… _ridged_. Their cheekbones, noses, brows, temples, all ridged with harsh bones, and faint cracks of flesh that revealed bronzed metal beneath the skin, something akin to the Me'atal silver joints, but much more primitive. Their skin ranged from light to dark, with the lightest being the shade of Egyptian sand. They had no formal uniform or set color – simply dark. And each of them glared, though Astra had the notion that the expression was through no fault of their own; the entire race likely had similar facial features.

One of them, the one closest, grunts at them and slings his gun behind his back, nodding his head back, as if gesturing to the dark door behind them. Khai steps off the platform first, then Astra; she remains calm as the other soldiers surround them when they leave the room. They are being escorted. And she has nothing to fear – yet.

Given that the Republic ship is significantly smaller than the _Nova_ , their walk through the narrow hallway is short. The first soldier stops and slams his fist into the wall beside a door a few times, most likely because the computer system appears to be ancient, practically non-functioning. Astra was sure that, even if Captain Godric had wanted to pull up a communications vid, this ship would be unable to do so.

The soldiers step to the side as the door slides open with some effort and, from inside, a rough voice calls out a brutal phrase. Only, Astra knows that the words spoken are rather indifferent, not angry at all, and she quickly translates that through the bond she shares with Khai, because she had sensed that he'd automatically shifted into a battle-ready stance.

" _Come in, already,_ " the voice had said.

Astra prompts Khai to step forward, quickly taking stock of the young foreign alien standing before them. He is built only slightly stockier than Khai, a few inches shorter, with closely cropped blond hair and deeply tanned skin, with bronze metal peeking behind the skin of the heavy ridges on his face. He was handsome in a way that was overly familiar to Astra – handsome in a _designed_ way, just like Khai.

And his next words seal the thoughts flying through Astra's head; his next words connect the final dots, revealing that whatever was happening with her and Khai, was so much bigger than they ever thought.

" _Welcome big brother,"_ he smiles, teeth sharp, reddish eyes glinting. _"And little sister. A nice surprise. I am Jaimes of the Noh'med Republic. Do you like my ship?"_


	33. Part 2: 11

**11**

_Scorpio Omega Quadrant, Republic Space, 2621_

"He says that you're his…big brother," Astra translates carefully. "And, that I am his little sister. But…the _way_ he said it…"

That was precisely what made Astra hesitant to translate, because, though her translation was perfect, the tone that Jaimes used seemed to say something different than his words. It was an inconsistency, which cropped up a few times in various languages, though this particular issue was because of Jaimes' personality than the Noh'med language.

"Not related," Astra clarifies aloud. And then, through the bond, _We don't share blood, not the three of us. But we share an origin._

_Do you infer that he was developed similarly to myself?_

… _I think so._

_I was previously informed that I was the only surviving experiment._

_Khai,_ Astra says cautiously, furrowing her brows as she watches Jaimes lounge in one of the stiff black chairs settled around a beat-up table. _They lied to you. A lot._

_Lying is illogical._

_Unless it benefits a cause_ , she argues quickly.

Khai has no response, but she knows that he has filed this away for later inspection.

Jaimes sighs heavily and settles his weight on the edge of the black table that is pushed up against the dull wall of the room. He tilts his head, observing them with intelligent, intimidating eyes. Astra thinks his overall demeanor is unnerving – unpredictable. Yet, she has the notion that Jaimes is not…bad. Not vicious. Not uncontrollable.

She's sure his moral compass is highly questionable and that he would be willing to do whatever necessary to survive, but he seemed to be, essentially, _good_. Whereas peace and calm were Khai's basis of normality, Jaimes likely thrived on chaos and neutrality. So, when he spoke again, Astra, new to the Noh'med language, was careful to translate, listening to nuances in tone, because whatever she deciphered, Khai would be instantly absorbing through the bond; she could already feel him listening in, tapping into the wave of translation that seemed to hum in the center of Astra's mind.

" _It's rude to not answer a question, you know."_

" _Your ship is very nice,"_ Astra is quick to reply, feeling the harsh syllables roll of her tongue. _"And powerful. You've transported us into a region of the universe that our radar map systems are unfamiliar with, which means that you've transported us very far. That's impressive for such a compact structure."_

_Tread carefully, adun'a._

_I am._

Jaimes appears to be pleased, his sharpened teeth flashing as he smiles broadly. _"Technology,"_ Jaimes says, rapping his knuckles against the desk. _"The Republic has the best transporting systems known to humanoid life."_

Astra quirks a brow, hearing a layer of subtext – the Noh'med dialect appeared to be positively _riddled_ with it. _"You say that as if…you_ need _to have the best transporting systems."_

Jaimes smirks. _"This is a pirate ship_ ," he deadpans. _"We need to be quick_."

_Pirates – typically located in the outer quadrants on the southern side of the-_

Astra quickly tunes out Khai's thoughts, only half surprised that he seemed to understand – if not know – what they were suddenly dealing with. The Federation had pirates, as well, but apparently not to the degree that the Republic did. Astra was willing to bet that the Republic was mostly composed of pirates. Rouges. Chaos. The Republic itself was likely structured so loosely that leaders were assassinated and replaced on a frequent basis.

She feels her nerves grow cold – cautious, on edge. This would turn into a confrontation.

" _Why did you bring us here?_ " Astra inquires, her tone as neutral as possible, which draws Khai from his speeding thoughts and causes Jaimes to tilt his head, squint his red eyes.

" _Hnn."_ Jaimes' gaze is calculating, almost cold, the hard planes of his face unforgiving as he stares at her.

" _What is it?"_

" _I'm trying to decide if you're playing stupid, or if your precious Federation hasn't told you about the attacks it has been launching on the Republic."_

Astra feels her brows furrow in confusion, an emotion that Khai silently echoes in her mind, though she is sure his expression remains unchanging. _"I'm not sure what you mean,"_ she tells Jaimes honestly. _"Until fifteen minutes ago, the Federation had no idea that there ever was a Republic."_

Jaimes scowls openly. _"I'm having a hard time believing that. For several months, Federation ships have been hovering on the borders of Republic territory and taking down our ships – not even rogue pirates, but the pirates like me who are employed by the Republic."_

Khai moves his hands to his side, unclasping them from behind his back. _Astra, he is accusing the Federation of committing crimes worthy of war._

_I understand._

Astra tilts her chin defiantly. _"We are a collection of peace-keeping and exploration starships; the Federation has no interests in-"_

" _Then how would you explain the deaths, little sister?"_

" _I can only tell you that the Federation is not involved."_

Jaimes' face hardens and he jerks his head toward Khai. _"Don't you want to involve big brother in this discussion?"_

" _He is more than aware,"_ Astra says, subtly tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing the fine point, before tapping her temple.

Jaimes laughs and the sound is ugly – mean. _"Oh, you have a little bond,"_ he laughs. _"Because big brother knows everything the Federation does. They bought him, little sister. He's nothing more than a living weapon to them. We all are."_

Astra bristles, her anger righteous – Khai was so much more than a weapon. He was _respected_ by the Federation, _loved_ by his Captain and crew, and _listened_ to. He was the pride of the Federation and-

_T'hy'la. Clam yourself._

She turns her head sharply, narrowing her eyes in a glare. She found it ridiculous that Khai had literally no concern for his position in the Federation, a position of honor, one that was earned. If he didn't care, she would care for him, as his wife, his lover, his friend, and his student. _No, I will not calm down, Khai. He knows more than we do about our origins and he's using it against-_

_You must retain a considerably careful control of your emotions-_

Astra looks away because she caught the tenor of Khai's thoughts and she _wasn't being emotional_. Granted, she wasn't being logical and collected, but she wasn't behaving erratically either. Was she? _No._ She turns sharp marigold eyes – the color of bravery – onto Jaimes, taking a step forward, points her finger at him. _"You listen to me. The Federation is not attacking Republic starships._ "

Jaimes appears amused and raises the ridges of his brows at Khai. _"She must be wild in bed, big brother."_

And, despite the fact that Khai prided himself in his control over his emotions, he released a warning growl from deep within his chest in response to Jaimes' implication, the translation fed easily through the bond. The inky black emotions that lingered in Khai's mind began to swirl and logic drifted away from his thoughts – which was dangerous. Astra had half the thought to end this meeting but didn't get the chance to assert any authority before things quickly began to go downhill. This was _not good_.

Jaimes laughs darkly, leveling Khai with a challenging look. _"I sense weakness in you, big brother. My little sister? Not so much. She's strong – probably stronger than you."_

"You will cease this taunting," Khai orders Jaimes, his tone cold and hard, uncaring that Jaimes did not understand his words, or that Astra would refuse to translate such a blatantly goading sentence.

Jaimes tilts his head, eyeing his older…brother, apparently, critically. Analyzing, much like a wild animal would analyze prey. _"I've offended you. Good. No better way to start a relationship than with bitterness and rivalry."_

The translation filters through their bond before Astra has a chance to stop it; again, Khai growls warningly.

Jaimes ignores the low rumbling noise and turns his red eyes onto Astra again, who feels her body lock up, stiff, in response to the alien gaze. " _You maintain that your Federation is not attacking Republic starships."_

" _Yes."_

" _You have no proof of this."_

" _I do not have proof, no. But I do have unrestricted access to all of the information of Federation affairs, and I would be more than willing to retrieve this information from my Captain in order to solve this conflict as swiftly as possible."_

Jaimes makes a soft clicking noise, and behind her, the black doors slide open, a bulky figure squeezing into the room, waiting with slouched posture for Jaimes to address him. _"Get a communications link to the Federation ship. Now."_

_You speak above your rank, adun'a._

_I'm doing what must be done for peace, Khai._

_Indeed._

The communication's link to the _Nova_ was crackling, spotty at best – Astra wasn't sure how Jaimes' ship ran given how dated the technology was. Captain Godric's voice was steady and confident over the link as he assured Astra that he would be sending the requested documents to Khai's pocket-com immediately. Khai stood straight, his hands busily creating a link from his com to Jaimes' archaic ship interface so that, when the documents did come through, they would be readily available without delay.

Jaimes, for his part, leaned back against the dark wall, almost lazily.

Astra tried very hard not to feel intimidated by him – it was difficult. He was much more of a predator than Khai was or even Ja'asper. She had the sense to tread carefully around him, if for no other reason than to keep the tension in the room from rising. She wasn't sure if either male was consciously aware of it, but they were sizing each other up, silently fighting for dominance. It could get ugly very quickly, and such a fight would ultimately create problematic stress between the Federation and the Republic – and, at this point in that fledgling relationship, Astra was sure it would be for the best if there was _no_ tension to speak of.

Khai's pocket-com _pinged_ with incoming documents, which were projected onto one of the dark walls; he flicked quickly through them, locating the documentations of the explosion he'd been involved in. "Astra, if you would," he prompts, face carefully blank, though his side of the bond was bursting with caution and slight unease.

"Of course," she responds. Astra turns to Jaimes, gesturing broadly to the hologram projection. _"These documents are proof that the Federation was attacked several months ago, resulting in a ship damaged beyond repair and several injuries to the crew of the ship. From the video logs, we can see that the starship which sent the attack was unmarked and unfamiliar to the Federation, and did not respond to communications,"_ she tells him succinctly. _"We are just as in the dark as you are, Captain Jaimes. Perhaps more."_

Jaimes squints red eyes at the holo-screen, his jaw clenched tightly as he attempts to make sense of the Federation Standard. Astra could appreciate the fact that he was at least attempting to understand a language he had no hope of being able to read; she silently asks Khai to pull up the video logs, which play the minutes leading up to the attack in gruesome, cold detail.

She fights off the panic at the thought that, had it not been for the genetic manipulation that Khai's body had been put through, she might have _lost_ him that day, before she even had it. It's a terribly sobering thought, and something deep inside her mind flutters, terrified.

Jaimes watches the video, then hums under his breath. _"That's not one of our ships."_

" _It's not ours, either."_

Jaimes' golden-bronze brows furrow as he crosses his arms, leaning more heavily against the dark wall behind him. He sighs, and Astra is almost fooled into believing that he has relaxed in their presence – would have believed it, had his red eyes not been so sharp. _"There is only one other possibility,"_ he says.

Khai picks up the translation and shoots a quick missive through the bond. Astra translates quickly. _"We are both being framed by a third source, perhaps to cause political tension. To start a war."_

" _We're being set up,_ " Jaimes surmises. " _Fucking great."_

" _But by who?"_

Neither Khai nor Jaimes can answer her question. Astra tries not to think about how significant _that_ is – the fact that neither representative of two regions of the universe had any suspects for these particular crimes. That could only mean that whoever was creating this tension was in good graces with both the Republic and the Federation.

That meant this criminal was a turncoat.

A traitor.

A black horse.

And someone who needed to be _eliminated_.

***N*O*V*A***

" _Stop trying to hit me and hit me_ ," Jaimes taunts. If his face could have expressed another emotion aside from anger, Astra was sure he would have been laughing.

As it was, she was too concerned with fighting him to put more thought into the nuances of Jaimes' race, and Khai was, unfortunately, unable to help. She had to protect herself and her husband, and Jaimes was very well trained. Too well trained, really – his fighting style was more ruthless than the Me'atal style, which Astra thought impossible. Hand-to-hand, she was no match for Jaimes, as she was too small and lithe and, frankly, at a distinct disadvantage in terms of strength. Khai had not done well against Jaimes, either, which was worrisome, because Khai was the best; he was literally _designed to be the best_ , and suddenly, he wasn't anymore. He was unconscious and vulnerable, and Astra was losing, because Jaimes had backed her into one of the rough, rounded corners of the dark room, and she was out of maneuvers.

Except….she had the saber.

And she wasn't afraid to put the deadly weapon to use.

Her hand falls to the hilt and, in one smooth, well-practiced movement, her fingers close around the cool metal, a pin-prick of pain on the tip of her finger as her saber draws her blood and confirms her identification, as she spins the hilt on her palm, a soft _whoosh_ as the saber laser ejects. Unlike the last time she wielded this weapon, the circular designs on the hilt of her saber glowed bright red, matching the raging color in her eyes. The saber twists on her fingers and Jaimes jumps back a step, his expression caught between outrage, surprise, and grudging respect.

His lips twist in a not-smile. _"That's right, little sister. Use your anger, it will make you powerful."_

Astra scowls openly at him, sparing a second to glance at her unconscious husband. The bruises that had formed on his face had faded from his accelerated healing, but a trickle of purple blood remained, sliding down his chin from where Jaimes had busted his lip open. _"You will let us off this ship, Jaimes,_ " she tells him, warning clear in both her expression and the threatening grasp she has on her saber.

Jaimes laughs. _"Of course I'll let you off. As soon as you win."_

Astra huffs out a frustrated sigh.

As it turns out, the brief moment of camaraderie that Astra had felt towards Jaimes once they had figured out what was happening to the Republic ships – and the one Federation ship – had quickly disappeared as soon as Khai indicated that it was time to leave.

Jaimes had been coy but stubbornly reluctant to let them leave. He'd thrown glances towards Astra and called himself Uncle Jaimes – in his own language, of course, which translated more into _male-family-not-father._

Astra had been confused.

Khai, predictably, had been protective.

And then Jaimes had proposed a challenge – they could use his transporter system, which he didn't recommend for reasons he did not specify, if he was beaten by either of them.

Khai lost very quickly.

Astra wasn't doing much better, though she did notice that Jaimes seemed to pull his hits with her, clearly not attacking as hard as he had with Khai. _"Fight fully or do not fight at all, Jaimes."_

" _I should not be so harsh with someone in your…condition._ "

Astra's saber lowers a fraction of an inch.

 _Condition_.

Her mind connects seemingly random dots – occurrences that she'd ignored, for no other reason than the fact that they had not mattered at the time. _Now_ , though, some things made more sense.

She lowers her weapon, the saber laser disappearing back into the hilt as her other hand falls to her flat stomach, low on her abdomen.

Jaimes smirks and relaxes his stance. _"You shouldn't be using a transporter in your condition, little sister."_

" _I…How did you know?"_

He taps the side of his nose, shrugs. _"The Noh'med race is primarily made of males. Women are very rare in our society, very coveted, protected, especially when they are with child. Our males can smell a pregnant female from miles away."_

Astra shakes her head slightly, feeling breathless – elated and terrified at the same time. " _If you knew, why not say anything? Why make us fight our way off this ship?"_

" _Partially because this seemed like much more fun,"_ Jaimes answers easily. _"And partially because I wanted to measure you up against my own skills, to see if whoever created me had made as many modifications on my brother as they did me."_

Astra's mind latches onto his wording as she slips her saber back into her belt as she steps close to Khai's prone body. _"You don't know who made you?"_

" _Not specifically. I know where I come from. I've looked into why I was made, and I know that there are others. But I do not know exactly_ who. _"_

Astra crouches beside her husband, pushing a hand through his hair, wondering if their child will share his color, or if their child will have a color more similar to her own. _"Khai's biological father created us,_ " she tells Jaimes, comfortable confessing to him now that she understood his motivations for holding them on his ship.

Jaimes' expression is pensive. _"You have my contact information,"_ he tells her. _"My personal contact information. I would like to communicate with you, little sister. Family is important…and I've got a feeling that we have a lot more family."_

And Astra agrees because her instincts agree with Jaimes' suspicions.

And because family was important to her, too.

***N*O*V*A***

Two things happened once Khai and Astra step out of the escape pod Jaimes had sent them back to the _Nova_ in.

For one, Khai growled threateningly at Captain Godric, pushing Astra back into the pod until Godric held his hands up and stepped back.

And secondly, Astra threw up.

Khai carried her to the med bay. After Carl had drawn purple blood from her arm, and after Khai efficiently briefed the Captain on what had occurred on Jaimes' ship – including the agreement to share scientific research between the Republic and the Federation – they sat in bonded silence, both aware of the _possibility._ Because, while Astra did not doubt that Jaimes was certain of what he'd scented on her, she wanted confirmation.

Doctor Carl is only about half as nervous as she expects him to be once he enters the examination room, Pad clutched in his twitching hands.

Joy pulsed through her body, her hands protectively cupping her stomach as Carl confirms her condition.

 _Pregnant_.


	34. Part 2: 12

**12**

_London, Terra to Faeta Quadrant, Piarix Space, 2621_

"I have a present for you."

Khai's brows knit together. "I was unaware of a scheduled exchange of merchandise, _adun'a_."

Astra laughs softly. "No. It's not for an anniversary or anything like that. This is just a ' _Because I Wanted To_ ' gift. Here. Open it."

Khai lifts the lid off the box, taking special care and Astra had the sudden knowledge that this was only the _second_ present Khai had ever gotten in his life. That thought was unbearably sad – though she had grown up malnourished and running, Nanini had always managed to give her little things, precious treasures. Astra knew presents, understood them…and Khai did not. She would have to remedy this.

Her husband's eyes stare at the revealed old-fashioned Terran book, which was a colorful yellow and black "paper-back" with the words _Idioms and Innuendos for Dummies_ written in bold white script. Khai frowns, the barest twitch of his lips, as he examines the cover, and, after a long moment, turns nearly beseeching steel-toned eyes to Astra.

"There's another book," she urges, moving to sit beside him on the low couch in their quarters, her legs crossed beneath her body. A surge of eagerness shoots through the bond as she watches him move the thick yellow book aside, revealing a much smaller dark green one called _Twenty-First Century Jokes_.

"I am unsure as to your meaning with these purchases, _adun'a_ ," Khai tells her after a heavy pause. "Are these books designed for educational purposes?"

"Something like that," Astra smiles, leaning her chin on his shoulder as he flips through the book of jokes, pausing on a random page to read the contents quickly. She likes the way he flips pages – carefully, but with purpose, all long fingers and dexterity. "Khai?"

His side of the bond is suspiciously quiet as he turns a blank gaze in her direction. "That is my designated alias," he says tonelessly. "Please do not overuse the title."

Their quarters are dead silent for a moment – and then Astra bursts into unrestrained laughter as Khai's lips twitch in a slight smile, the bond flooding with mirth and hilarity. He enjoys the graceful curve of his wife's neck as her head tosses back, free laughter bubbling from her throat, so pure that the sound is far superior to her li'lute. He had grown concerned for her mental well-being during the two weeks she was confined to bed rest.

Her laughter was more assurance than he had expected.

 _Fascinating_.

***N*O*V*A***

It had been their first fight – whether or not Astra should be serving the Federation while pregnant. She argued that she was more than capable of performing her duties while their child gestated, and Khai countered that his concern was for _her_ health, not the Federation's aspirations. The fact of the matter was that Astra was instrumental in the negotiations that would be coming up in a few months between the Republic and the Federation and the tasks that she had been assigned were both lengthy and highly detail-oriented. It would take up a lot of her time and energy.

Perhaps Khai was right to worry – though he called it _concern_ – for her health. He was experiencing incredibly unusual protective instincts that called to the primal Giidas he so viciously pushed into a dark corner of his mind. Her pregnancy had put him on edge, so much so that he tended to growl if a male so much as _glanced_ in her direction.

But Astra had never been cowed by anyone and she wasn't about to start now.

She won the first fight, though she did compromise with both Carl and Khai that she would be limited to two weeks of bed rest while the _Nova_ was repaired of minor damages.

Much to Khai's chagrin, bed rest gave Astra the time to make a substantial dent in the work she had to do for the Federation, which mainly included creating language translations between the Noh'med standard dialect – both written and recorded voice modules. It was a lot of work to keep everything organized and to make sure that she didn't miss anything important, though the actual translation was as easy as breathing, given Astra's unnatural talents.

More often than not, Khai would arrive at their flat in London and find her asleep with several Pads spread across the bed.

It was easily the longest two weeks of her life, especially considering that her gypsy childhood included a past of never staying in one place for more than a handful of days.

That, and the fact that Khai, alarmingly, refused to have sex with her until she was no longer under physician orders.

***N*O*V*A***

Despite what happened the previous time Astra was on the _Nova_ , she could feel her body thrumming with excitement as she gathered her Pads into a Replicated black satchel that lay across the gel-bed. She gathered her project meticulously, idly listening to Khai as he went through their apartment, routinely checking cabinets and packing items that he knew they would require when they were on-ship.

Her translation project for the Federation was halfway done, which she had reported to the Admiralty earlier in the day while she was on-campus for another check-up with Carl. Thankfully, Khai's growling demeanor had subsided enough so that his behavior was almost publically acceptable – he still hovered obsessively.

It didn't bother Astra in the slightest.

Neither did pregnancy.

Astra was fascinated by the change in her body, subtle as those changes might be. At night, when she took a long moment to stare at her nude body in the mirror, she marveled at the rounding of her hips and the growing fullness of her breasts. Khai, for all his stoic nature, would add that her skin had taken a rosy glow – though he would do this silently, though the bond, and with a certain amount of restraint that told Astra he was struggling with his self-imposed limitations regarding her body.

_I'm not on bed rest anymore, adun._

_Indeed_ , Khai replies, heat and lust searing through the bond for a brief moment, less than the span of a second – but it was enough.

Unfortunately, they did not have time to entertain coital thoughts, as the _Nova_ was boarding and Astra was nearly obsessed with getting to the ship. Khai manages to push down his arousal, which worked to tramp out Astra's as well; had he not, her own struggles with emotional control, specifically lust, would have made them terribly late.

Unlike other times, Khai and Astra did not board a hover-bus to the Admiralty. Perhaps due to her pregnancy, Khai was reluctant to let Astra ride a vehicle with a slightly higher statistical edge of danger; instead, he had a hover-car dropped off at his apartment, and he drove them through London and to the Admiralty. Astra decided, very faintly and as bond-silently as possible, that Khai's driving left something to be desired.

Despite the worry that Jaimes had revealed about Astra's health and transporting, Carl had cleared her to use the transport pads for another handful of weeks – and she trusted Carl with her life. Khai, for his part, was especially tense as they stepped onto the transporter pad, weighed down with two bags of necessary items while Astra held onto her saber and li'lute, cloak wrapped tightly around her frame, protecting her from the sudden heat of Cairo as they materialized at the _Nova_ 's base. Her husband relaxed only marginally once they arrived, stepping closer and inhaling deeply, analyzing her scent for any changes.

Astra stifles a laugh at his serious nod and steps off the transporter pad, quietly thanking the engineers. Khai's protective streak was often more amusing than alarming.

The transporter pad is situated not one hundred meters from where the _Nova_ is perched on the tripod launching base, and Astra stares up at the gleaming ship with something akin to awe. She was sure that she wouldn't ever grow accustomed to seeing the ship, to knowing that _she_ would be in the ship, and to know that the ship would be going to _space_ , through space. It was almost too much.

Astra smiles up at Khai, brushing her fingers against his as they climb the steep bridge that leads onto the lowest deck – storage – of the ship, enjoying the lilac tint to his ears as he blushes.

Khai slowly raises a brow. _You would do well to quell these desires, adun'a. You are-_

 _Teasing you. I intend to follow through_ , she replies breezily, walking beside him easily, her joy permeating the bond. "It's good to be back on-ship."

"Indeed."

Unlike the last time Astra had been on-ship, this boarding was for the near future; not many missions conducted by the Federation were less than a year, and most were up to three years consecutively. This particular commission was for two years in which much exploration and scientific research were to be done in a quadrant of dying stars. Khai was excited, though he did not reveal this to anyone but Astra.

Their quarters were separated into three rooms – bedroom, bathroom, living and dining – decorated blandly in white and square furniture. The very first thing Khai did was set a passcode on their door scanner, which could only be overridden by the Captain or the CMO, Carl. While he was occupied with that, Astra took a critical look around their quarters.

The dining and living was equipped with a low, long square couch and a single chair, with a holo-screen that could be used for off-duty entertainment or communications, and a table that seated three, one side bolted into the wall that housed a food-specific Replicator. Between the living area and the dining area was a narrow desk with a com-unit built into the wall, which Astra immediately imagined Khai sitting late into the night, or before his shift on the bridge. There was a sliding white-silver door on the opposite wall that led into the bedroom, which was surprisingly large – large enough that Astra would be able to put a crib in the room, at least. The bathroom was connected between the two closets, with a large sonic shower and generous cabinet space.

Astra goes back to examine the size of the closets as Khai walks into the bedroom, carrying their bags, his side of the bond content. He sets their bags onto the gel-bed and then walks to the wall opposite their bed, where a large area of blank floor space was. He touches a panel on that wall that Astra hadn't even noticed, and instantly, a one-way holo-wall emerges from the floor, connecting with the ceiling, and shielding Khai inside.

 _This will be the child's room,_ he tells her. _It is programmed to let the child out during emergencies, but we can pass through the wall at any time._

Khai demonstrated this by walking through the wall. "The room can be programmed to be soundproof, as well as allowing the walls to be two-way, or completely opaque."

Astra smiles, feeling her heart lurch as she realizes that _Khai_ put thought into making this for their child – she can sense through the bond that he created this technology himself, which tugs at something deep in her heart. Khai would be a wonderful father.

A familiar wave of lust crests over her side of the bond and Khai appears positively _pained_ as he steps back into the room, collapsing that holo-wall, and looking at her with solemn eyes. "We cannot, _adun'a_ ," he tells her. "Our presence is required for a briefing in the Captain's Room before lift-off, and then we are to share the Alpha shift on the bridge."

Astra bites her lip, attempting to stifle her slightly inappropriate lust.

Khai was right. They had duties – priorities.

 _Soon_ , she responds with a lift of her chin.

***N*O*V*A***

The Captain's Room was a bit misleading. For one, the Captain did not, in fact, live in this room, which was actually a meeting room with a desk at one end and a few chairs placed in front of the desk. The room was made special by the large window behind the desk that revealed the Cairo desert from a dizzying height – in space, this window would likely reveal galaxies and unknown worlds.

Captain Charles Godric greets them jovially, with a firm clasp on the shoulder for Khai, and a ruffle of hair for Astra, careful as always to avoid touching the hands of his Giidas crewmates. "How are you?" he asks Astra. "The baby?"

Astra doesn't flinch at the question – as Captain, Charles had every right to know she was with child. She feels warmth bloom in her chest as she realizes that Captain Godric was the first person to _ask_ about the baby. She smiles without restraint. "The baby is well, Sir. And I am ready for duty."

Charles shakes his head. "You know that you don't have to address me formally unless we're on the bridge," he reminds her with a grin. "I can't wait to be an Uncle."

Khai, bless his soul, does not express his confusion over the Captain's words aloud; through the bond, though, the confusion is palpable. _Why does he call himself Uncle, t'hy'la?_

_It's a Terran habit. Because the Captain is close to you, the father, he becomes an honorary uncle, even though he doesn't share blood._

_Fascinating_.

True to form, Khai does not reveal this _fascination_ in his facial expressions. He ignores the pleasantries and asks about the first assignment for the _Nova_.

Charles flips on his Pad with a sigh. "It's always business with you," he jibes, though there is no real annoyance behind the words. "Alright. Given the functions of this ship in particular, the Admiralty has struck an agreement with Piarie dignitaries who have been trained to detect upcoming supernovas."

Astra hides her surprise at this. The function of the _Nova_ had largely been rumored at the Academy, mostly thought to be a war-ship even though the Federation was strongly against war. She hadn't ever thought that the ship would be used to contain supernovas – the explosions created by dying stars – but the name of the ship suddenly made sense.

"Our first destination is the retrieval of the Piarie dignitaries," Khai says blandly, with one single nod, which might have indicated that he approved of this logical action.

Charles turns off his Pad, sitting back in his chair. "Yes. I've come to understand that the Piaries that will be on board are from very influential families."

Astra wondered at that. The Piaries had an incredibly complicated caste system among their people, with one royal family deferring to another in a chain. The dignitaries from the influential families could be actual royalty – like Mari'Ahlice, who had evidently denounced her title, though she still wore the circlet that showed her class in the system. She didn't say anything, though, and didn't send these thoughts through the bond. It was all speculation from an understanding of the language, not the customs, as Piaries were almost as secretive as Giidas.

Captain Charles looks to Astra. "You will need to make yourself available to the dignitaries; should their needs coincide with your shift, an Ensign can easily step into your place until the next shift."

Astra nods – it wasn't uncommon, in the Federation, for Communication's officers to act as diplomats on-ship and Astra had already taken the appropriate classes for situations like this. She had almost been expecting a situation like this since the _Nova_ had yet to employ a long-term diplomat. "Understood."

Charles looks like he's about to say something else, but his com-unit rings and he sighs. "The duties of a Captain already begin. Dismissed."

Khai immediately stands, saluting the Captain with military precision. Astra follows his movements after a second of hesitation, warring between deferring to Khai's urgings and Charles' insistence that they stay casual. To compromise, she pairs her salute with a quirky smile.

The bridge is half-filled with bustling bodies by the time Khai and Astra are able to edge their way inside. The normal bridge crew – the Alpha crew, which Astra would be spending the majority of her time with – is composed of familiar faces, none more so than Mari'Ahlice and Emet, both of whom are busy at their stations, Ahlice tinkering with a map and Emet checking the engine systems through a communication's link to the lower decks. Rosy, who had been assigned as a liaison between the bridge and the Engineering deck while Lieutenant Angela oversaw the warp preparations, talks loudly over the link, shouting instructions over the clanging of her deck, to which Emet repeats mockingly until Rosy demands to talk to someone else.

Ja'asper arrives on the bridge right after Astra, allowing himself a single glance to Ahlice before saluting Khai. Over Astra's two weeks of bed rest, Ja'asper was assigned to be one of the lead officers of the _Nova_ and would be under Khai's orders during his commission – Astra thought that the assignment was fitting given his strategic training and Khai's overwhelming logic. The _Nova_ would be safe from war, at the very least.

Astra sends a short wave of affection over the bond before approaching her own station, quietly greeting the Ensign who would work as her assistant during the Alpha shift, a mocha-skinned girl named Cleo, who instantly demonstrated her knowledge by replying to Astra in ancient Greek. Together, Cleo and Astra work quickly to customize the settings of the Communication's console – Cleo taking note of the short-cuts so that the Beta and Delta shifts would know them, too. Astra made plans to stay on the Beta shift for a few moments in order to make sure that the program was fully understood; making sure the shifts ran smoothly, without errors, was important to her. Even now, Astra felt she had something to prove.

By the time Captain Godric is on the bridge, the crew has settled into a semi-comfortable level of rushed efficiency and all unnecessary crew members have left the area for other parts of the ship. "Systems check," the Captain says, sitting in the center chair console, already pulling up a holo-screen of information as he flips on the ship AI system. "This is your Captain speaking. Lift-off in three minutes."

The brief span of time after that is a flurry of activity, mostly compromised of the Engineering Deck clanging in the background, interrupted only by Lieutenant Angela's calm voice and the loud whir of the engines. A thrill of excitement – from Khai – flashes through the bond once the ship begins to hum, vibrating subtly beneath their feet.

"All crew strap in," Captain Godric orders. "Engines ready?"

" _Ready for lift-off,"_ Lieutenant Angela confirms.

"Emet," the Captain nods.

Emet smiles, though for the first time his smile appears to be quite serious. This is more a smile of immense joy and passion – the smile of someone who enjoys what they do, and a smile that is reflected by the majority of the bridge crew.

As the _Nova_ breaks free from Terra's final layer of the atmosphere, the Captain leans back in his chair, lounging, flicking on the AI system again. "This is Captain Godric of the U.F.S _Nova_. Let's make the next two years memorable."

Astra peeks at Khai from the corner of her eye and sends a wave of happiness to him, unrestrained in her emotions.

Khai, much to her surprise, reflects that happiness threefold.

***N*O*V*A***

Astra's first Alpha shift is less exciting than she had initially anticipated. For the most part, Astra spent time uploading the Noh'med language – what she had translated at least – onto the Communication console translation system, and then later calling up the individual communication crewmembers that were under her command from their quarters to go ahead and teach them the shortcuts that she created. Each time one of the Ensigns or Lieutenant Juniors called Astra by her command title, she gave a little start, almost not believing that it was all real.

The end of the Alpha shift was signaled by the flashing of bright blue lights on the corridors of the ship, through all the decks. Traditionally, Alpha shifts were the longest – ten hours – and operated by the most advanced crewmembers, who would also be called to the bridge in case of an emergency during the other shifts. Beta shifts and Delta shifts were seven-hour intervals that were worked by a majority of Lieutenant Juniors and Ensigns, respectively. Of the 500 members of the _Nova's_ crew, nearly half were on the Alpha shift.

Khai shadowed the Communication's console, silent as Astra finished the translation download she was currently working on; his side of the bond was awash with affection. As she stood, he tilted his head to the side, pointed ears peeking from dark bronzed hair, one brow quirked slightly. "Do you wish to partake in the evening meal?"

Astra nods, still internally adjusting to space-time, which was set to the standard Terran-time of twenty-four hours. The fact that there was no consistent rise and fall of daylight would throw her, which Khai anticipated; having grown up traveling in space during his adolescence, Khai was more accustomed to the constant darkness outside of the ship and had a much easier time forgetting sunrise and sunset. He indicated with picture-thoughts that it was important to stick to a strict mealtime regimen if she was to adjust correctly, and Astra was only too eager to follow his wisdom.

They share one of the three turbo-lifts down to the middle deck, which housed a very large mess hall, furnished only by round white tables set with eight chairs and a dozen food-specific Replicators built into the walls. There was a rush of officers, mostly from the Alpha shift, gathered in straggling lines.

Khai led her to the shortest line and operated the machine for both of them, checking the most basic side of her bond for a scan of her metabolic needs, a habit that he had picked up since her pregnancy was confirmed. Khai was obsessed with Astra maintaining a well-balanced diet, with an emphasis on vitamins and minerals that were essential to Giidas and Terrans alike. Astra, for her part, allowed him this, because she was sure he would go out of his logical mind with worry over her health if he was not as involved as possible.

"You require protein," he murmurs, mostly to himself.

"Lentil soup," Astra offers helpfully, watching as Khai's long fingers input her order – along with the Giidas equivalent to chicken, whole-grain bread, and some obscure selection of vegetables that Astra had grown accustomed to eating at least once a day.

Khai carries their trays and waits for Astra to sit down before setting the food on the table. They eat in relative peace, though Astra does initiate small-talk with Mari'Ahlice and Rosy, who join them half-way through the meal.

"I can't believe Captain Godric is only using warp four," Rosy complains. "The core I designed goes to twelve! We could be in Piarix space in four hours."

Mari'Ahlice delicately wipes a napkin across her mouth. "We will arrive soon enough."

Astra frowns at Ahlice's tone. In all the time that she had known the rose-quartz-eyed alien, she had never heard such stiffness or formality – which was incredibly bizarre, since Mari'Ahlice spoke more formally than either Astra or Rosy, unless Astra was speaking _Giidal'su_. "Ahlice?"

For the first time since they met, Ahlice breaks Astra's gaze, not even responding to Ja'asper's touch to the back of her neck. "I do not wish to return home," she confesses after a long moment.

"Because you renounced your title?" Astra asks softly.

"That is part of it," Ahlice responds, sending a glance to Ja'asper. "My mating to a Me'atal will not be well-received either."

Ja'asper appears unaffected. "We're the brutes of the Federation," he says with a shrug. "It's fine if your parents don't like me."

 _To dislike someone for his or her culture is illogical_ , Khai thinks to Astra.

_I agree. It doesn't seem like the universe is ready to outgrow racism._

Ahlice smiles faintly at Ja'asper's words. "I know, beloved, and I thank you for the support. Still, I do not look forward to my father's arrival."

This was news to Astra. She knew the dignitaries that they were picking up would likely be familiar to Mari'Ahlice – the Piaries were notorious for knowing all members of their planet – but she hadn't thought Ahlice's own _father_ would be welcomed aboard the _Nova_.

Now, she understood Ahlice's distress a little better.

For the first time in her life, Astra was suddenly glad that the only parent she had known as Nanini, who didn't have a single judgmental bone in her body.

"If he gives you hell, you dish it right back," Rosy advises. It was so like Rosy to think first of fighting fire with fire.

"Perhaps I will," Ahlice says thoughtfully, her gaze wandering. "Perhaps I will."

***N*O*V*A***

Astra tilts her head back, lips parting in a gasp as her neck is exposed to Khai's demanding lips, his hands hot on her body as he strips her of the uniform she'd designed for herself. Her fingers clutch at his hair when he sucks a bruise into the juncture of her shoulder and neck.

She wasn't quite sure how it began.

Upon arriving at their quarters, Khai's mood was genteel and reserved – normal. But Astra had slipped out of her chunky boots and unbuckled the belt that held her saber with a sigh, complaining lightly that the pregnancy was already changing her body. Something had snapped on Khai's side of the bond, then, because he had instantly crowded her back, pressing her against the wall, caging her body as he attacked the nape of her neck with rapid kisses, his hands firm against her hips and breasts. By the time he'd spun her around to strip her of her clothing, he was shirtless, pants unzipped, and his eyes a vivid, passion-laced purple.

His hands finish pulling the clothes from her body and smooth down her hips, to her knees, which he draws up and around his waist in a single movement, pressing his hips against her own and her back against the wall. Already, Astra can feel her swollen lips and the slickness of her sex.

"Please, _please_ ," she gasps. " _Now._ "

" _No_ ," he growls against her neck, teeth scraping over her shoulder, hips grinding slowly against her own. "Not yet."

Astra bucks against the friction, digging her nails deep enough into the tattooed skin of his shoulders that she draws faint crescents of dark purple blood. She uses her feet to push Khai's pants off his hips, shuddering when the blunt tip of his sex bumps against her clitoris. He was so _close_ to sliding into her. "Bed," she demands.

Much to her relief, Khai nods, pulling her body closer to his own and stepping out of his pants. It appeared that Khai's earlier adamant refusal had more to do with the fact that he didn't want to have sex against a wall – probably out of respect or worry for the child in her womb. He was being more gentle than he had in the past, at least.

Khai's body looms over hers on their gel-bed as he manipulates her legs, hooking them over her elbows, bracing her ankles against his shoulders as he slides into the wet heat of her body with a low groan. He doesn't thrust – his movement is more like a merciless, circling _grind_ that constantly brushes against a thrilling spot deep inside Astra's body, sending her through two orgasms before Khai reaches his own peak, her fingers tight in the hair at the nape of his neck as his slightly-pointed teeth scrape against her throat.

Neither notices the uprooted objects in the room, freed by Astra's telekinesis in the midst of such pleasure.

***N*O*V*A***

The constellations that are featured in Piarix Space are significantly different from those in the Terran region, and each constellation has a different tale. Khai shares his knowledge through the bond, complete with incredibly detailed images, as they ride the turbo-lift to the bridge. Astra thinks his eagerness is mostly to do with the fact that she was experiencing some particularly upsetting waves of nausea – morning sickness for only the second time during the pregnancy.

So far.

Suffice to say, she was not enthralled with that symptom of her condition, especially since, despite Khai's best efforts, nothing could really distract her from the urge to purge everything in her stomach. Not even a manipulation of her metabolic functions was helping, much to his dismay.

However, Astra wasn't going to let something as simple as nausea deter her from her work. When Captain Godric inquired as to her preparedness to act as a translating diplomat, she assured him that she was more than capable – because she was. Astra had certainly dealt with more pressing medical issues under more stress before.

She did not let the feelings of illness show on her face, an act that was buffered by Khai's own support and sense of duty. She would do her job, do it well, and allow herself to curl up in a small ball of pregnancy sickness after her shift was over.

Astra arrives in the second transporter room – the one used for formal occasions, such as when dignitaries were beamed on board – just seconds before a group of three men materialize on the narrow pad. It is easy to spot Mari'Ahlice's father, as they share the same nose and shape of the eye, though the skin of Ahlice's father is a unique color of dusty light burgundy, his eyes bright amber, and his hair a flame of red. To his left, a man half his age with a tinge of green to his skin and eyes the color of jade, adjusts the silvered circlet balanced on his onyx hair; beside him stands a man of the same age with skin the lightest shade of blue, ocean-eyes and midnight hair.

" _Pleasant greetings,"_ she says with a curtsy – the very curtsy Mari'Ahlice had taught her not minutes before.

" _Peaceful meetings,_ " replies the man with amber eyes. _"I am Bilbo, Seer of the Lands. These are my companions, Frodo, Seer of the Oceans, and Samwise, Seer of the Skies._ "

Astra finds it curious that he does not address himself or his companions as royalty – though she knows they are from what little Mari'Ahlice had shared. Perhaps the reason for their stay on the _Nova_ is more important than their royal titles. She might ask, later.

" _I am Astra, Lieutenant of Communications. I will be available to you for translations during your stay on board, as well as during consultations. Would you like a tour of the ship, or would you prefer to settle in your quarters?"_

Frodo, the young man with the green skin, exchanges a heavy look with the blue-skinned Samwise. _"If I may,"_ he says politely, though not without urgency. _"We believe it would be prudent to begin a consultation sooner rather than later._ "

Astra nods, understanding the subtext of the lyrical language. _"Of course. If you would please follow me,"_ she says, leading the three men out of the formal transporter room and directly into the turbolift, casually observing the bright colors of their clothing, picking out the special broaches and circlets that indicate their positions on the Piarix government system. Frodo and Samwise were perhaps princes, while Bilbo was likely to be king.

It was interesting to observe, at the very least.

_Khai. Could you and Charles meet me in the Captain's Room? And bring Mari'Ahlice._

_We will be there by the time you arrive._

Astra nods to herself, smiling politely at the three Piarie men who follow her out of the turbolift. True to his word, Khai, the Captain, and the Navigation Officer – Ahlice – are already in the Captain's Room by the time Astra leads the Seers into the room. The officers of the _Nova_ collectively wait until the three colorful men are seated before panning out across the room, the Captain taking the seat at his desk, with Khai over his left shoulder, while Astra stands several feet from Khai, and Ahlice takes place on the Captain's other side, already pulling up a green-tinged holo-map on her Pad.

Curiously, neither Mari'Ahlice or Bilbo greet each other. Perhaps Ahlice abstaining from her rightful place on the throne was a larger point of contention than Astra had realized.

Charles, predictably, asserts his place as Captain, making it clear that despite the Piaries being of royal blood, their political placements had little to no sway on _his_ ship. "I suppose since you've decided to forego the tour that the issue is serious."

Bilbo nods sagely, his voice deep and wise as he speaks, while Astra translates with little hesitation, her words sure. _"Yes. We have Seen great calamity."_

"Soon?"

It is Frodo who answers, blazing jade eyes drawn to Ahlice for seconds at a time – as if he appreciates her, but knows better than to associate with someone who dismissed her title. _"The stars die quicker than predicted in the Este-Major Quadrant."_

" _It would be prudent if we should arrive at the star before the lowest point of the day,_ " Samwise injects almost warily.

The Captain frowns. "I thought we were to have a week to arrive."

Bilbo simply shakes his head once.

"Officer Brahhndahn," Charles says to Ahlice, tone serious, his face grimmer than Astra had ever seen – he suddenly looked his age. "Finalize the direst location and set a route. Astra, get to the bridge and get Emet set on a course to the Este-Major Quadrant at warp twelve – be on standby for the specified location. And Khai, prepare for supernova minimization."

***N*O*V*A***

Astra's stomach was clenched in fear, though nobody would ever guess the utter turmoil settling in her stomach. She called on every ounce of meditation tutelage Khai had ever given her to calm her nerves as much as possible – she wasn't making much headway, though she supposed that was to be expected.

After all, her husband was about to freefall through space _towards_ a dying star in order to get close enough to deploy a palm-sized capsule that contained enough red-matter to create a bubble large enough to contain and stabilize the supernova that was building in the near-distance.

The worst part was that Khai had to time it perfectly so that the large bubble of red-matter that would eject from the capsule would envelop the supernova right as it expanded. Too soon, and the bubble wouldn't be big enough, and not soon enough- well, she tried not to think about it.

Her hand was rubbing over her lower abdomen, an action which Khai's keen eyes did not miss.

He checks to make sure that they are alone in the dressing room beside the ejection chamber before he reaches over, gently placing his hand over hers. "I will return safely, _adun'a_."

Astra tries not to think about how his words sound more like a promise than a fact.

With bated breath Astra remains on the safe side of the ejection chamber, watching as Khai summons the tattoos on his skin, the thick black lines expanding and locking together over his body, his face, his form covered in airtight armor a shade of gunmetal, helmet over his bronzed hair. Secure in his hand is the square capsule, a slim sonic-jet strapped onto his back.

The ejection chamber is a metal room, a perfect square, with an exit out the side of the ship; the wall rises away and Khai jumps into the void of space without any hesitation. It's a practiced movement. There's trust in the abandon he shows.

Astra just wishes that she could trust space with his safety, too. Because as much as she loved the stars, as much as she admired the complexity of the abyss, she had a healthy fear and awareness of the danger space presented. Until that very moment, Astra hadn't realized that her greatest fear was losing her husband – her family – to the cold clutches of space.

The _Nova_ is stationed fairly far from the supernova – far enough that the heat of the dying star does not affect the metal alloy of the ship – but close enough that the star paints an array of yellow-orange colors across the pristine white surface. Eventually, Khai's form is lost to the distance, and the bond between Astra and Khai is stretched to the limits. Several Ensigns in the monitoring room keep track of Khai's progress with a complicated system of long-range radars and sensors.

"He's stopped now," one of them says.

Astra peers at the radar. "Can I talk to him?"

The Ensign steps over with a nod, not eager to defy a superior officer. Astra's finger presses down on the button that connects the communication link from Khai's suit to the ship, listening to the faint static.

"Khai?"

" _Position is stabilized,"_ he answers.

Astra is not comforted, though she ignores the feeling. They have jobs, responsibilities. "The Seers have said that the star will die in exactly two minutes and," she pauses, glancing at the Pad clutched in her hand, the one that held the exact timeline of star EMQT-8854. "Two minutes and fourteen seconds."

" _I understand_ ," Khai replies.

Astra doesn't doubt that his own internal biological clock had been synchronized before he even thought of jumping out of the starship. _"Come home safe,"_ she tells him in a simple version of the Giidalan dialect.

Khai does not reply, though he does not need to. The short swell of warmth is more than enough for Astra.

She steps away from the radars, listening to the Ensigns as they monitor her husband, her eyes darting between the countdown on her Pad and the growing fluctuations of the supernova in the distance.

Right as the timer hits zero, the long-range sensors detect the deployment of the red-matter capsule – exactly on time.

This far away, Astra is able to see the giant reddish bubble suddenly pop up, closing itself right as the star explodes in a burst of red-yellow-turned-purplish-blue-white, sheer solar energy battling against the containment of the red-matter.

"Radar readings indicate that Commander Khai is navigating back to the ship."

Astra fights a smile – she would bet that Khai hadn't even spared a glance to the wonder of a supernova. He probably tossed the capsule and turned right back around, already firing off his jetpack, practical and exact.

She doesn't allow herself to really breathe until Khai flies back into the ship through the open hatch, the door sealing behind him, helmet already pulling off, tattoos shrinking back, revealing the paleness of his skin.

She finds relief in the slate of his eyes.

And with that, an _awareness_ blooms fully in their bond – a third mind.

The mind of their child, happy and content.


	35. Part 3: 1

**Part 3**

**1**

_Orion Quadrant, 2621_

Astra gasps, leaning her head back against Khai's shoulder as his arms wrap gently around her body, his lips hot on the side of her neck, nipping in time with each slide of his fingers. Heat and sweat slick their skin, and their quarters are awash in the sharp scent of sex. Her breasts are swollen, growing from the pregnancy, and particularly sensitive, which Khai takes advantage of as his hands drift upwards to tweak a nipple. A shudder races down Astra's spine, her back arching in response to the oncoming orgasm, acid churning in her stomach-

"Stop!"

" _Adun'a?"_

Astra shakes her head, hands already covering her mouth as she scrambles to get up and away from the heat of Khai's body, stumbling towards their utilitarian bathroom with just enough time to retch into the toilet. Any fanciful thoughts she'd had about early-morning pleasure were quite literally flushed down the drain as she weakly wipes at the corners of her mouth, forehead clammy, hair stuck to her forehead. Khai, bless him for his logistical prowess, comforts her silently, offering a cool hand on the back of her neck and careful sips of water from a proffered bottle.

"The sickness persists," he says quietly. "Astra, I am uncertain as to the condition of your health."

Astra is inclined to agree with him. Pregnancy had _not_ been easy – in fact, after her seventh week of being pregnant, Astra's morning sickness had surged with little relief, and she began to have an upsetting dislike of all Twi'lek foods, which had always been her favorites. She seldom ate much more than vitamin and protein-packed shakes that Khai designed and input into their Replicator index, and even then, there was the high probability that she would be purging the contents of her stomach an hour later for any number of minuscule reasons, such as the smell of Carl's cologne, or the scent of the grease Rosy was prone to use down in Engineering. She had hoped that breaking into her second trimester would cure her of this persistent sickness, but it had not, and as such, she had an appointment with Carl in the next half hour in order to determine if she _was_ healthy. Outside of Khai's intimate knowledge of her metabolic functions and the careful monitoring he did of the fetal bond to their child, Astra's confidence in her abilities to create and sustain life was severely diminishing.

"Carl will know."

"Yes," Khai agrees after a prolonged pause. "Because his knowledge has been reliable in the past."

Astra looks sharply at her husband, the strong angle of his jaw, the cool steel of his eyes. "Was that sarcasm?"

Khai ignores her question in favor of helping her from the bathroom floor, long fingers curled around her naked hips, eyes resolutely focused on the slow-swelling bump of her abdomen.

She feels a bubble of amusement, though. "You _are_ reading the book Emet sent to you."

"I have no idea to that which you are referring."

Through the vague sense of nausea, Astra smiles slightly. Her husband was so very curious about social interactions, and Emet knew this – Khai might try to deny reading the material that was sent to his Pad, but she had caught him quickly flipping through the electric pages on more than one occasion. One day, she would get him to admit it. "Of course you don't," she placates, carefully allowing the tips of their fingers to touch before turning to the medicinal cabinet beneath their sink and crunching a mouth-cleansing pill between her teeth.

"You will keep me updated on the progress of your medical appointment-"

"Yes."

"And in the event of complications-"

"-I'm _healthy_ , Khai, there are no complications-"

"-the infirmary is instructed to inform me immediately-"

"-Even though you're on the Alpha shift-"

"-regardless of my being stationed on the bridge."

Astra sighs, exasperated, and utterly _touched_ at how sweet his overprotective, very obsessive antics were. "Yes, _adun_."

Khai nods. "Satisfactory," he says, before methodically stripping out of his sleep pants and stepping directly into the sonic shower with an affectionate nudge at their bond.

"You're impossible," she tells him as she slips out of the bathroom, seeking their closets in order to lay out their uniforms.

_I assure you, t'hy'la, I am quite possible._

_I regret buying that book of Terran jokes._

A shot of Khai's muted amusement is the only answer Astra receives, which is just fine. She had been very pleased to discover exactly how sarcastic Khai could be, once the newness of their bond had settled and she'd had time to peruse the plains of his mind. He denied having a sense of humor, but it was there, even if it was as dry as sandstone.

Astra switches places with Khai, taking a very quick sonic shower, and dressing in her uniform in well-practiced, efficient time. She was glad that she'd yet to upgrade the size of her uniform to accommodate the growing life inside her body – they'd yet to tell anyone, save for Carl and Esmeralda, that Astra was carrying. She couldn't decide if she was frightened of the changes in her body, or if she was mesmerized. For the most part, pregnancy hadn't been as wonderful as all the books Khai downloaded onto her Pad promised it would be. Astra had the notion that her hybrid blood was the reason the pregnancy was so difficult – that maybe she was too Terran to carry a Giidas child, even if she had Giidas blood.

Carl, however, was quick to soothe her mind. "The baby will have your blood type from what the tests show," he tells her an hour later, eyes locked onto a purple holo-screen, where the sonogram was frozen, showing an odd bean-shaped image. Even though technology had advanced, sonograms were still sketchy at best; later on in the pregnancy, Astra and Khai would be able to have three-dimensional images of their child, but it was far too soon to be able to tell. "Right now, the fetus is healthy, thriving, though I do want you to take a folic acid supplement. Do you have any specific concerns?"

"The morning sickness," Astra says. "It's definitely not only in the morning."

Carl hums, tapping his feet in a three-fourths rhythm. He'd taken to being in space like a fish to water, especially when he was in his medical bay treating the various patients that strolled through his sector – engineers, for the most part, because they tended to be injured in one way or another more often than not. "That's normal. Expected, even," he tells her. "You are very young and this is your first pregnancy."

"I miss Twi'lek apples," Astra says mournfully. "I can only keep down Giidas food."

Doctor Carl grins, the corners of his too-blue eyes crinkling. "The fetus is smart already – and this tells us that your child might be inheriting mainly Giidas traits. Between Khai's genetic manufacturing and your own, it's likely that your baby will be a full-blood Giidas."

"But I'm half-Terran."

Carl shrugs, tapping his fingers against his knees. "True. But it's such a minuscule amount of Terran that the Giidas in your blood often overpowers your Terran genes, especially now that you've married-"

"-mated, Carl-"

"-a Giidas male. From what you tell me, the psychic-"

"- _telepathic_ -"

"-bond between you keeps your Giidas blood constantly active. It's like if I had a magnet and two different metals, with only one metal polarized to the magnet. The more I use the magnet, the more that polarized metal will be drawn to the magnet. Your blood is operating in much the same way."

Astra nods in understanding – it made sense that the Giidas traits in her body would be amplified by direct exposure to a full-blooded Giidas, especially given how well _acquainted_ she was with the Giidas in question. But, then again, she seemed to lose something during the pregnancy, an issue that had been digging in the back of her mind, and even though Carl wasn't likely to know the answer, she felt that she needed to get the problem off her chest to someone who wasn't Khai. She didn't want Khai to think she was weak, as irrational as the thought was. "My telekinesis…"

"Yes?" Carl asks softly, his bed-side manner rising to the occasion as his face shifted into something serene and trustworthy, even his constant twitching stopped.

Astra frowns. "It's…I don't have it anymore."

Carl's brows shoot up. "It's gone?"

"Since last month – not that it was terribly strong in the first place. But now I can't even lift a stylus."

Carl's eyes glint as he scratches at his ear. "That could be explained by a number of things, but I think the most likely reason for the suppression of that ability is due to energy reserves. You're creating _life_ , Astra. I'm sure after the pregnancy is over, your telekinetic abilities will resurface."

Astra wasn't so sure, but she didn't say anything to contradict Carl, especially since she was already a half-hour late for her shift on the bridge. The fact remained that Astra's telekinetic abilities, unlike her omnilinguist capabilities, were late in blooming, and while she didn't have any comfortable level of control over them, they _had_ disappeared. She had no idea what that could possibly mean. Perhaps Carl's theory had merit.

Carl ends the appointment by sending copies of the sonogram to Astra and Khai's Pad while she hurries out of the med bay and into the turbolift with dread – being pregnant made her motion sickness worse. Even with the turbolift operating at a moderated scale, a setting that Khai had insisted on for one of the three turbolifts on the _Nova_ , Astra needed to take several seconds to calm her stomach after stepping onto the bridge. Khai wasn't at his station, but rather in the Captain's Rooms, and his side of the bond was unexpectedly tense as she settled at the Communication's console.

_Khai? What's wrong?_

_It is…nothing of concern, t'hy'la. I trust the appointment was satisfactory._

_We're healthy_ , she tells him, wary of the stunted cadence of his direct thoughts in contrast with the whirl of his racing mind. _The data is on your Pad._

_Thank you, adun'a._

Astra smiles softly at the swell of affection originating from Khai's side of the bond, drawing the attention of Makenna, a quiet Ensign that Astra had handpicked from the Communications crew to be her maternity-leave replacement. Makenna was proficient and quick, a dedicated learner who had the ability to notice Astra's cues without Astra needing to offer further direction. Astra liked Makenna, if for no other reason than the Ensign was just shy of nineteen, the youngest Ensign in the bunch. With Makenna's help, Astra was able to implement and integrate software capable of translating the most obscure of dialects in case of emergency – during free time on the bridge, Astra continued to tweak the program, unerringly thorough, fueled by some instinct that she couldn't name. She was metaphorically elbow-deep in the program when Khai and Charles Godric came out of the Captain's Room, their expressions heavy. Instantly, the atmosphere of the bridge became oppressive in the extreme, each officer turning from their stations to watch the Captain tread to the center console, face etched in serious, harsh lines.

Charles Godric, more serious than Astra had ever seen him, taps his finger against a sleek button on his chair, calling up the ship AI system. "We have received orders," he says, his message spreading through the entire ship. "The Federation is currently in negotiations with the Republic in the hopes of forming a united alliance. As such, it is important that each species of intelligent life be cataloged properly. It is our mission to retrieve doctors from the Intergalactic Database and transport them to a planet in the middle-zone between the Federation and Republic borders. Specialized orders will be administered in the next several minutes. That will be all."

There was a distinct bustle, a synchronized motion that echoed through the entire ship as the bridge exploded into well-trained tasks; Astra and Makenna began fielding communication files, forwarding certain instructions to the proper departments. This mission was a big deal in a way that others weren't. Regardless of the primary function of the _Nova_ , which was to explore new space and dismantle supernovas, the large ship was built with a diplomatic purpose in mind.

Astra wasn't surprised, then, when she came across orders directly from the Federation Admiralty – orders that stated she would be acting as a diplomatic liaison for the Database doctors until their arrival on-planet. In the back of her mind, a growing sense of unease clicked into place. Astra had been feeling on edge and now she knew why – the Intergalactic Database, where Carl had initially sent her hybrid-damning blood, was coming onto the _Nova_. Paranoid, Astra was sure they were coming for _her_ and _she would be their diplomat_ for at least a week. She wouldn't be able to avoid them.

Khai must have noticed her thoughts, because he was quite suddenly behind her chair, boldly cupping her shoulder to garner her attention. "Lieutenant, I have a matter to discuss with you."

Astra nods, standing, glancing at Makenna for a moment.

Makenna tucks tumbling auburn hair behind her ear. "I've got it, boss. You go ahead."

As soon as the white doors of the bridge slide closed behind them, Khai envelopes Astra into his arms, firm and secure. "They have no permissible concern over you, _adun'a_ ," Khai says coolly. "It would be highly illogical for any fixation to come upon you."

"It's the hormones," Astra replies shakily, trying to convince herself of Khai's assurances, trying to convince herself that there was nothing to fear.

Still, the very thought of the Intergalactic Database coming on board her ship, her _home_ , while she carried a child of hybrid parents – it was enough to keep her on edge for days as the _Nova_ traveled to Starbase 312. She has trouble sleeping and Makenna picks up her slack, discreetly supplying Astra with various Giidas juices during the Alpha shifts while Astra's mind wanders to worse and worse scenarios. Khai, for his part, remains a steady, logical presence on the edge of her mind and Astra comes to the realization that she isn't sure how she ever lived _without_ their bond.

On the morning that the _Nova_ is due at Starbase 312, Astra wakes hours before Khai, his arm draped over the growing curve of her stomach, her own hands cupping the thriving fullness as she sinks into the blossoming bond in her mind, the one that comforts her with cooing innocents as her mind races with possibilities. Astra was never one for anticipation – she'd always preferred impulsiveness. Her mind continued to circle around the fact that Nanini had kept her away from doctors for a reason. The only time Astra had ever been in a medical facility before the Academy was because Nanini was dying and Astra needed to steal medication for her. The first and only doctor to examine Astra had been Carl – nobody else before then. Surely, there had to be a reason. Nanini must have known that even the barest possibility of the Database getting involved would be tragic. Nanini had her secrets and Astra was sure this was one of them.

Eventually, Astra finds herself hunched over the toilet again, heaving with Khai at her shoulder, and calmly soothing her nerves as best he could. He didn't understand her paranoia, her emotions about this – none of it was logical, none of it was proven. His reasoning was bland in comparison to Astra's rioting thoughts, so the most he could offer was the steel of his unflinching nerves.

Khai presses a kiss into her flushed neck. _Hayal_ , he thinks to her _. Calm._

Astra nods silently and her husband assists her into the sonic shower, bathing quickly with her, and then helping Astra dress in her uniform, carefully clasping her hooded cloak onto her shoulders, brushing his fingers against her skin.

_All will be satisfactory._

_I know_ , she answers, calmed only in minuscule amounts. That same instinct that had been nagging at her for weeks was strong – something akin to the inky swells of black possessive emotion in Khai's own mind, but orange and suspicious instead, swarming over the bond of the child growing in her womb, matching the color sharp color of her eyes.

And everything is instantly made worse by Mari'Ahlice's glazed rose quartz eyes gazing at her as soon as Astra and Khai exit their quarters. _"Carry the li'lute_ ," Ahlice murmurs in her native tongue, head tilted to the side.

Astra doesn't hesitate, darting back into her quarters to strap the case of her li'lute beside her saber, the foreboding weight of _something_ unexplainable resting on her shoulders as the ship AI system makes the simplest and most dreadful of announcements.

" _The Nova has docked on Starbase 312. Docked on Starbase 312."_


	36. Part 3: 2

**2**

_Starbase 312, Orion Quadrant, 2621_

The doors swish closed briskly behind Astra when she steps into the rounded hallway, locking eyes with glazed rose quartz. Astra decides it's quite the dichotomy to feel the weight of her child next to the weight of her saber and li'lute on her belt, which hung inches lower to accommodate the growth of her stomach. Maybe the saber shouldn't be so close, but in a way it was comforting, knowing that she could do _something_ she was trained to do, because, with each second that passed, the weight of fate was heavy on her shoulders.

"Ahlice."

The self-resigned princess blinks, serene face pulling into a tight frown. Mari'Ahlice hadn't been quite the same since her father departed back to Piarix, but it was a _good_ change, as if the tension had finally bled out; from what Astra understood, her father had accepted Ahlice's fate as one approved by their Gods, even if Ahlice's chosen-destined mate was not one he personally approved of. _Uncouth_ , had been the word she remembers Ahlice parroting. As if Ja'asper was anything less than a restrained, intelligent warrior – Astra had the notion that Bilbo's ideals were more than a little dated.

"There is no time," Ahlice tells her.

"Time for what-"

"Your duty is to protect the life within you," Ahlice cuts her off. "And remember, regardless of what happens - _Always trust white, Astra. The ones in white are like you_."

Ahlice had said that before and Astra still had no idea what it meant. She could guess – Khai could guess – but it was vague and terrifying in a way that Astra couldn't quite describe. Trust those who wear white? Astra knew of nobody, save for the medical employees of the infirmary, who wore white. There was nobody to trust, nobody who was _like her_ that fit Ahlice's warning.

Astra doesn't get the chance to ask for clarification, because the ship AI system is speaking again, cutting her thoughts to the quick.

" _Docked on Starbase 312. All Alpha personnel report to the bridge. All Alpha personnel report to the bridge. Docked on Starbase 31-"_

"We need to go," Ahlice says, turning on her heel. "Fate cannot be disrupted. The future depends on our movements."

 _She speaks half-truths,_ Khai thinks coldly, following Ahlice with his hands folded behind his back. _I do not appreciate her attempts of forewarning_.

Astra shakes her head, breathing deeply, stepping onto the turbolift just behind Khai and Ahlice. _Don't doubt Mari'Ahlice_ , she tells her husband, shooting him a significant look. _She has not been wrong before._

_She implies that you are in immediate danger, adun'a._

_I've felt on edge recently. You're aware of this._

Khai's jaw clenches, his mind swirling with dark emotion. _Your apprehension has been illogical until now. I do not believe in coincidences._

Astra understood what Khai did not say – he wanted her to be cautious.

As if she could be anything _but_ cautious.

_It will be fine, adun._

At least, that was what Astra told herself.

***N*O*V*A***

There were seven scientists – only seven, and not one of them actually looked like a _scientist_. They were built too solidly, their eyes too predatory. They set Astra on edge even more so than she was previously. How could they not, especially as the _Nova_ trembled as it quickly undocks from the starbase?

Still, she is cordial with them, acting out the motions of her training to perfection, warily noting who would hypothetically be the most dangerous opponent, who would be the least worrisome. In a purely theoretic sense, Astra's chances were slim.

She keeps her shoulders straight and her chin held high as she saunters down the hallway, conscious of every echoing step, bidding her husband a brief farewell as Astra and the group of Database scientists enters the turbolift.

Khai's emotionless face, for the first time, is pinched in concern. It's probably that – his expression – more than anything else that tells Astra no good would soon be coming.

She swallows the sudden ice of panic that grips her throat, forcing herself to exhale through the nose as the turbolift doors slide open; Astra sets a brisk pace as she leads the scientists to the guest lounge on the floor of the _Nova_ that is also home to various guest lodgings. "Please notify me if there is anything I can get for you," she says politely as she stops in the middle of the room, back aching from how tightly she holds her posture.

"Actually," one of the least threatening begins, turning with a saccharine-sweet smile. "There is something you can do for us."

 _That didn't sound promising_.

"And what would that be, sir?"

The Falleen flicks his reptilian eyes to one of the scientists to the left, who calmly takes out a rectangular piece of machinery, switching it on with a low _hum_. It vibrates minutely. "You can come with us without too much of a fight."

Three of the scientists lunge towards Astra –

And she's moving before she even registers what she's doing, her hand gripping the li'lute and bringing it to her lips-

A high-pitched, blood-tingling note pierces the air, the same note from that night in Tokyo, the same note that makes the so-called scientists fall to their knees, ears already bleeding. A handful collapse on their sides, dead already.

Astra, for as steadily as she plays the note, the _eschak_ , is shaking, panicking – because one of the scientists, the Falleen, is standing again, glaring, _not dead_ , and reaching for the little device the other scientist had – and then he's coming towards her and the li'lute isn't playing anymore because she ran out of breath and-

_-Khai, the scientists-_

_Astra-_

_They're not-_

_What is-_

_-taking me-_

_ASTRA-_

_KHAI!_

***N*O*V*A***

Astra wakes to the most curious sensation of being watched. It wasn't unfamiliar, really – Khai had a habit of waking before her and using those moments for the very illogical practice of watching her sleep. He had no excuses when she teased him for it.

But this – _this was different_. Wrong.

Astra pushes the last brushes of forced unconsciousness away, much like clearing her mind of cobwebs and opens her eyes, instantly wincing at the harsh white lights shining down on her in an octagon pattern. She tries to sit up, frowning when she finds her hands bound against a sleek metal bed with two buckles on each wrist; her ankles, too, are fastened to the bed, as well as a thick binding belt over her hips. The underlying sense of panic quickens as she takes notes of the various electrodes pasted onto her skin, along with an array of fine needles piercing her skin, connecting her to tubes and monitors that she doesn't have the wherewithal to comprehend.

She blindly reaches out to Khai through the bond and-

Nothing. He's not there. _Khai isn't there_.

Gasping, Astra pulls against her restraints, reaching out telepathically for her bond-mate, her husband, the one person she loved more than any other being alive.

 _Khai! Khai, where are you_?

All Astra receives in response is a sharp, drawn-out sting – _electrocution_ – from one of the electrodes pasted onto her temple.

Worse yet, her demands fall on a deaf bond – a bond pulled too far by distance, creating a lingering, growing ache in the center of her forehead. It's uncomfortable and she knows that it will only continue to become more persistent. It's worse that she _knows_ the bond is being pulled too taut, that she can _see_ this in the white canvas of her mind, right beside the heavily cloaked bond to her child, the one that was bathed bright orange with caution and an edge of fear.

Perhaps that was the worst part.

Her child _knew_ something was wrong and felt _fear_.

Astra inhales deeply, collecting her wits. Panicking, no matter how much she wanted to, would do her no good here. She'd been kidnapped, that much was clear, but by _whom?_ The men who took her most certainly weren't affiliated with the Intergalactic Database-

That's it. It wasn't the Database. The ship picked up the wrong passengers, or maybe the Database hadn't ever contacted the Federation in the first place. Anyone with the correct skills could have hacked into the Federation systems or cloaked their identity for long enough to trick the Federation into assigning the _Nova_ to pick up a group of "scientists" at the Starbase – it would be _easy_. And if Astra had just now thought about how easy it would be, then surely many others would have thought about it, too, _and_ successfully pulled it off.

So, then, _who kidnapped her_? Who could have so easily stolen her right from under Khai's nose? Who dared put her child in danger?

Astra glares at the narrow slate-grey door as if the answers to her silent demands would saunter through and the mystery would be solved.

Nobody appeared.

She clenches her jaw as the seconds pass, eyes darting around the room. It was solidly built and rather small, no more than twenty square feet, just big enough for the metal cot she was strapped to and several sleek pieces of equipment that she couldn't identify; there was one large mirror taking up half the wall to her left, allowing her to see that she was, by all appearances, unharmed. The fact that the kidnappers had not hurt her physically calmed her enough that she noticed the faint beeping that seemed to match her heart rate. In fact, now that she noticed the heart monitor electrode taped to her finger, she thought it was _odd_. Why would the kidnappers bother monitoring her vital signs unless she was-

A _lab_. She was in a _lab_.

_Please, no. No._

The design was familiar. The large mirror, which she now identified as a one-way window, the metal bed, the machines…all carbon copies of the room Khai grew up in, except everything here was the same maddeningly dull shade of grey.

This was the makings of her nightmares come to life – ever since she'd found out she was half-Giidas, ever since she learned she was pregnant, this had been exactly what she feared. They would have taken her blood by now, whoever kidnapped her, they would _know_ everything about Astra, would know she was carrying a child, would be able to find out who she was related to and-

The narrow slate door slides open and two men step through, one older than the other, though both are very clearly alien – non-Terrans, that is.

"Ah, good," says the older one, the startlingly familiar man, as he enters the room. "You're awake."

With a sinking stomach, several pieces click together in Astra's mind – because _who else_ would look exactly like Khai, only aged forty years older, with salt streaking through copper hair and a set of frown-lines around his mouth?

"Excellent. You recognize me," Ed'vard says monotonously, stepping closer with his hands clasped behind his back, an echo of Khai's favorite casual position. "Our sensors indicate that you have already attempted a telepathic signal, quite possibly to my son, correct?"

Astra says nothing, though her jaw clenches tighter. She did not _like_ seeing Khai's features on Ed'vard, especially knowing that her _adun_ had been raised in a lab, created in a test tube. It didn't occur to Astra until the very moment that Khai was, in all likelihood, more _clone_ than his own individual. It bothered her that Khai was not afforded his own appearance – that he was just a carbon copy of this clearly deranged man.

Ed'vard blinks once at Astra. "It would be in your best interests if you did not make any further attempts," he continues, cold grey eyes moving to linger on her stomach. "The life of your child may not survive more exposure to the electric impulses."

Astra's heart races, reflected by the monitor, as Ed'vard turns away, victory distinct in his posture – because he was _right_ , of course, he was. It was jarring to realize that if she wanted to protect her baby, she would have to play along with Ed'vard's plan.

At the door, Ed'vard pauses, looking at her over his shoulder. "It would be most satisfactory for you to cooperate, Thirteen. Once you have given birth, that child will be the second in a generation of augmented species, and you will fulfill your role as a carrier for the subsequent pairings you will participate in…the other females are still too young," he says coolly, eyes harsh though his expression is blank. He appeared to be _unhinged_ in the coldest, most calculating way. "Twelve will be the next mate-pair for you, and as such, he will be the one to assist you through this gestation period."

And then, Ed'vard leaves, the grey door sliding shut behind him and the young man standing against the wall, watching as Astra grapples with what her husband's _father-creator-torturer_ deemed to be her fate.

She was to be nothing more than a living incubator.

Because she was _female_ and able to carry a child in her womb-

R'anee must have known or at least suspected. Feared. That was why she sent Astra away with Nanini.

Astra feels a tear roll down her face, understanding that her mother died to save Astra from this fate and, somehow, Astra had _still_ fallen victim to it. And her child, should the baby be female, will be destined for the same fate, because it was clear that was all Ed'vard had planned for any of the augmented females in his charge. _Carriers_.

It made her both sick and nearly blind with rage, her mind a chaos of red fog.

A throat clears and Astra's attention snaps to the young man Ed'vard left behind. Twelve. And she was apparently Thirteen – her disgust rose as she realized Ed'vard named them after what experiment they were. What number did that make Khai if the experiments before him were unsuccessful? And how many of them were there _after_ Khai? After her?

Astra studies Twelve, recognizing that he was Me'atal, his coloring so similar to Ja'asper's, though Twelve's hair was shades darker and his eyes had a distinctly silver hue instead of icy blue. She supposed he was older than she – he was named _Twelve_ , after all – by perhaps a year or less. The fact that he was Me'atal in ethnicity made her suspect that Ed'vard had, at some point, mastered how to genetically engineer across all races.

That was a scary thought.

"I don't want to hurt you," was the first thing Twelve said. Ironically, it did little to soothe Astra's fears. "I'm not- I mean to say- I don't intend to…Ed'vard's ambitions are not ones that I share," he settles on finally.

Astra glances over Twelve critically, using the utmost of her linguistic skills to analyze his facials expressions and body language. Whereas the other men that Astra knew held themselves with confidence, Twelve was comparatively meek. He didn't seem comfortable in his skin. She knew, from Ja'asper, that Me'atals had significantly strong physical capabilities regardless of build or height – so, despite the fact that Twelve was only around eighteen years old and still growing into his body, Astra knew he was capable of quite a lot of damage. He may not intend to harm her, but with whatever experiments Ed'vard had performed on Twelve, there was no guarantee that Astra or her child would be safe around him. Very simply, she didn't _trust_ him-

But he was wearing white. All white, from his shirt to the pants tucked into his scuffed shoes. Unbidden, Mari Ahlice's prophetic words rushed through Astra's mind: _"Always trust white, Astra. The ones in white are like you._ "

Ahlice had never been wrong before.

Ignoring the fact that Ahlice very _clearly_ knew that Astra would be in this predicament, especially given Ahlice's visions of the li'lute before the kidnapping, Astra was inclined to believe in the only guidance she had available.

If Ahlice was said to trust the ones in white, the ones that were _like_ Astra – other experiments – then Astra would trust those who wore white.

A distant part of Astra's mind noted that _Ed'vard_ did not wear white. He had been dressed in the same bland grey shade of the walls.

"What's your name?" Astra hears herself say, voice slightly rough from disuse.

Twelve's expression is understandably surprised. "They call me Twelve. That's the name Ed'vard gave me."

"I don't care about that," she argues. "I want to know the name you gave yourself."

Twelve studies Astra as thoroughly as she studied him and finally, after a long moment, answers her. "Ga'arret. What's yours?"

She is tempted – greatly tempted – to give Twelve – _no, Ga'arret_ – the name R'anee and Nah'huel had given her at birth, Izabela. But. But Ga'arret was _like_ her.

Ahlice was never wrong.

Khai was surely looking for her.

Her child's life was inexplicably tipping on the balance.

And Astra would rather _die_ than allow _this_ to be her fate.

So, it's with a deep breath and a steady gaze that she answers, her mind already set and decided, conviction firmly planted. "Astra," she replies, sure that her eyes are the shade of blue determination. "And you're going to help me and whoever else is trapped in this laboratory escape."


	37. Part 3: 3

**3**

_Centaruian Quadrant, 2621_

"Were you aware this would happen?" Khai demands as he leans into the Piarie Navigation Officer's personal space. He was cognizant that his behavior was unseemly and irrational but possessing no inclination to cease acting in his current fashion. He was raging. It was _logical_ to direct his anger towards the one person who appeared to be knowledgeable about the fate of his _adun'a_. Khai knew, from what Astra – _why does it hurt to think her name_ – had told him that Mari'Ahlice, resigned princess of Piarix, was gifted with the Sight. She could see the future.

Khai wanted to know _why she didn't stop the abduction_.

"Back _off_ , Commander," the Zainte engineer, another of his wife's friends, growls at him.

Khai ignores the engineer, flashing his teeth in what can only be interpreted as feral – his metabolic functions show a 6% increase in adrenaline production, which may be attributed to the sense of _panic_ he feels as he realizes that his mate-bond to Astra – _her name hurts –_ has been stretched beyond the brink. He can no longer feel her. It's as if she was never connected to his mind.

It is supremely unnatural.

"She had knowledge that my _adun'a_ would be taken and did nothing about it, regardless of the consequences, and for that she will-"

"I knew of several possibilities, Commander," the rose quartz-eyed girl replies, expression far too serene for the situation. Khai feels violent urges bubbling in the inky black part of his mind. He feels as if he might give in to those urges. "My attempts to evade this future were blocked, and for that I am most grievous. I can offer no assurances. The futures my Gods show me now are alarming."

Khai growls, snapping his teeth.

Rosy, the engineer, reacts quickly, her tanned palm striking the clench of his draw, snapping Khai's neck to the side as the sound of her strike echoes through the stunned silence of the bridge.

A throat clears to the side and Ja'asper, the Me'atal male who trained Khai's _adun'a_ – _he cannot even think her name_ \- so well, speaks in the unforgiving cool cadences of his people. "The initial Federation reports have indicated that the Intergalactic Database did not request transport from the _Nova_ ," he says, stepping subtly in front of the Seer that bares his scent. "It appears to be a coup designed to abduct the Lieutenant for reasons that we are not aware of at this moment."

This news is not of comfort to Khai; instead, his violent urges are now directed towards the Me'atal. His only response is a restrained growl and a straightening of his shoulders as he struggles to latch onto any sense of logic.

He fears that, without her, he has lost his _hayal_.

A familiar hand settles on his shoulder – Captain Godric, who had comforted Khai similarly in the past, though Khai never understood what physical touch could do for means of comfort. The only person who had ever offered him comfort successfully was his _adun'a_ and he is sure that she wasn't even aware of how comforting he, who had no _need_ for comfort, found her presence. He has regrets. He was designed to live without those.

"We're working as fast as we can, Khai. She hasn't been gone for more than eight hours. Rosy has been able to ascertain that the device they used had an installed cloaking device, which may actually aid our efforts in finding her," the Captain says, fingers squeezing around Khai's shoulder.

"I must pray to my Gods," the Seer says after a moment as the bridge crew shuffles back into their stations, working on what Khai has to assume are various means of locating their Lieutenant of Communications.

Khai does not watch her leave. He feels himself sinking into his own mind, dissolving into his baser instincts.

However – there was a resource that had not been attempted as of yet and one that may prove more useful than those of which the Federation was fond.

With precision, Khai logs onto his own com-unit terminal, sending a message to the only person who he considered family on some level, aside from his missing wife and the Captain. As the holo-screen fades, the message sent, Khai is presented with his own reflection, which reveals the finest tint of red on the cool steel of his irises.

He is losing himself to the rage.

Khai finds that he does not _care_.

***N*O*V*A***

" _Woman_ , if you _like_ the way you look, _get out of my way_ -"

"Sir, you aren't authorized to-"

"Oh, for fucks-Look, lady, my sister is missing and I really feel like killing someone. Are you volunteering? Because I wouldn't-"

Khai, drawn to the corridor of the shuttle dock from the turbolift by the sound of raised voices, blinks at the belligerent display. "Jaimes," he says. "You've arrived."

The Noh'med turns away from the Ensign he was threatening, his expression smoothing out as much as a Noh'med is able to smooth his expression. Jaimes was dressed in the filthy, cobbled leathers of his ship uniform, hair greased away from his face to display red eyes and a heavily ridged brow. His face was covered in bristly scruff, of which Khai was irrationally jealous of – his own facial hair grew at a glacial pace and he considered his appearance far too put together given the situation. He found that his thoughts had become increasingly irrational as of late. It was worrisome on a distant level.

"I said I'd be here," Jaimes replies as he pushes rudely past the Ensign, stepping onto the turbolift with an impatient expression. "What's the status?"

Khai is sure that his expression is far from forthcoming. If Astra were here, she would tease-

"Not good, then," Jaimes surmises as Khai steps into the turbolift beside him, hands clasped behind his back. "I have people working through alternative means on my ship," he reports as the doors slide closed. Khai understood that _alternative means_ was likely something illegal; he didn't particularly care. "So far, none of our sources have been able to- Hey, come on, follow me. Where are we going?"

Khai blinks, abruptly noticing that the turbolift had arrived at a floor at random. He'd been losing time, too – there was a high probability that the headache that pounded through his head was the cause. Ever since-

Khai reaches out, presses a button on the turbolift, and waits in tense silence as the turbolift arrives on the bridge; he leads Jaimes through the short hallway and to the com-unit that was displaying a handful of holographic screens. He touches one of the bright green screens, monotonously updating Jaimes on the information he'd already compiled, which was unfortunately very little. "I have been incapable of initiating contact through our mate-bond and long-range sensors were unable to emulate the coordinates of the free-cell teleportation device used, so the trajectory of the abduction is unknown. Theoretically, she could be anywhere in the known universe, and that is not accounting for the quotient of habitable planets that our shared databases do not have records of at this time-"

"This is such _bullshit_."

"Indeed," Khai agrees coolly, feeling the weight of failure heavily on his shoulders – an illogical psychosomatic reaction. "The situation is most unsatisfactory."

"No. I mean, yeah, Astra being abducted is the worst, especially with my niece or nephew on board- but this…unemotional robot thing you have going on is unbelievable," Jaimes tells him with barely concealed contempt, his eyes burning furiously as he ignores the stunned looks of the bridge crew who had, until that moment, been steering clear of Khai's obsessive computerized tracking. "Don't you even care that your _wife_ is gone, stolen from you-"

" _Never doubt the emotions I harbor for my adun'a,"_ Khai growls, face inches away from his brethren's, teeth bared and eyes glowing an unchained, eerie red, shockingly reminiscent of burning coals and without the neutrality of Giidas-grey. His hands twitch and his body is coiled; the only reason he doesn't attack Jaimes outright is likely because of how much control he holds over his own body. "She is _mine_. I will _eviscerate_ those who dared take her from me."

The crew of the bridge is silent, waiting for the Giidas or the Noh'med to attack the other in a flurry of rage – Captain Godric, for one, is standing from his Captain's chair, as if to interfere in the impending battle.

It's a surprise, then, when Jaimes leans back, satisfied expression crossing his ridged face. "Good. Channel that anger and let me into your computer systems," he says to Khai, eyes roving the crew. "You-yeah _you_ – go get me the best engineer in this ship and your doctor. And you, dear Captain – well, I hope you don't mind if I steal your ship for a while."

Captain Godric steps away from his chair, glancing at the Giidas he considers his son. Khai was, to put it simply, utterly distraught. He was losing control. Charles Godric hadn't ever seen Khai behave like this – overcompensating in his control one moment and then tossing that control away in the heat of the next second. It was disturbing while also reassuring. Terran as he was, Godric had no hope of understanding Khai's turmoil or Jaimes' apparent loyalty. But he was Captain for a reason and he understood when to step down for the greater good – and though Jaimes particular methods were convoluted at best…

Charles Godric squeezes his hand around Khai's shoulder, dark eyes unwavering as he stares at Jaimes. "As long as you get her back."

Something indescribably terrifying passes over Jaimes' face. "Oh, _that_ I can promise. This little game has gone on for too long."

It isn't until Charles is leading a nearly unresponsive Khai to the back of the bridge that he wonders what _game_ Jaimes was talking about – and if they had any hope of winning it.

***N*O*V*A***

Astra has come to hate Ed'vard with every fiber of her being, which is disturbing on so many different levels – but mostly because he has the aged version of her husband's face and it keeps throwing her off, leaving her vulnerable in her heart. She could never hate Khai. Ed'vard, on the other hand, she could and would hate him.

She wakes to the same room, unaware of how much time has passed, but conscious that she is _not safe_. The very first thing she does, before she even opens her eyes, is check on the fetal bond of her child, re-cloaking it in shrouds of mist and love and comfort. She feels groggy, slow, as if working off one of the medications that Carl once used-

Her eyes snap open and Ed'vard makes a dismissive sound, slowly pulling an intravenous tube from her arm, his expression entirely closed off. "Excellent. You've woken."

Astra's eyes are fixed on the needle that was once in her arm. She knew, from experience with Carl, that having that needle in her arm was not a pleasant sensation – she couldn't _stand_ it. But she didn't feel it, not really. Just a tug of skin.

It wasn't right.

"What did you do to me?"

Ed'vard's brows twitch. "That tone of yours will need to be conditioned," he comments as he steps away, placing the tube and needle down on a sleek table that folded back into the wall. "And I have not done anything to you, aside from completing the alteration plans that were designed for your genetic augmentation."

Astra feels her heart rate skyrocket. That- it didn't sound right and her mind was so _fuzzy_. "What did you do?"

"It was an enhancement surgery," Ed'vard says, eyes darting once to the top of her head. "I have induced congenital analgesia into the codes of your genetics, which will hopefully pass onto your next paired offspring."

She reaches one hand up, cautiously feeling the crown of her scalp, only to find a sterile bandage wrapped around her head, padded at the base of her skull. "Congenital- _what_?"

Ed'vard stares at her as if she is particularly stupid. "You will no longer feel pain. It should prove helpful during your upcoming births. The surgery was successful. You're stronger now, as I also introduced a rapid cellular regeneration to speed your abysmal rate of healing, which should also clear up the complications of the omnilinguist inception rate that I had not predicted in the designs of your initial genetic data. You are perfect, now."

Astra was _horrified_.

It was only because of Khai's intensive meditation techniques that Astra was able to school her expression. She simply stares at Ed'vard, hoping that her silence will force him away.

Eventually, he leaves, after he is done tinkering with her bandages – she cringes internally each time he comes closer – with a lone comment that Ga'arret will be sent in shortly to keep her company.

As soon as the door closes, a tear streaks down her cheek, which she wipes away to the best of her ability with her shoulder, as her arms are still tethered to the metal bed. Surgery. Neurological-genetic surgery – _was that even possible?_ He took away her pain receptors, but also fixed the headaches and nosebleeds, and made her heal faster. And he indicated that these…these _improvements_ would pass along to other offspring – it was too much for her medicated mind to comprehend. So she lays silently, staring at the ceiling blankly as she tries to emulate the way Khai checked on all of her metabolic functions, notating the changes and fluctuations for as long as she can before her mind tires again.

The door slides open after an immeasurable amount of time and Ga'arret slips into the room. They don't speak for a long time. Astra suspects it must be because Ga'arret knows they are being watched because he opens his mouth abruptly after a very tense ten minutes. "I've never left the lab," he confesses, speaking quickly. "I've never left and I hate it here. I'll help you. I will. I promise."

Astra turns her head to the side slowly, mindful of her recovering skull even if she can't feel the pain that would surely be radiating from her head had Ed'vard not gone and messed with her brain. "Tell me about what's happening here," she requests, feeling the full extent of her mind in slow increments.

"He – Ed'vard – he makes people. Not traditionally…but you knew that."

"Genetically engineered mutations," Astra says. "He arranges pairings."

"He plans to," Ga'arret replies. "But the other girls are too young still."

Astra raises her brows. She supposed it was a good thing that Ed'vard seemed to have some unspoken rule pertaining to when females should be forced to carry children. It was unfortunate that he didn't consider her too young.

"Are you like me – I mean, did you have a mother?" Astra clarifies, thinking about how Khai's memories, the once she got through his dreams and the bond, had revealed details she wasn't even sure Khai was aware he knew, like how he could faintly _remember_ the tube of amniotic fluid he was grown in. She wondered when exactly Ed'vard had decided to use women like R'anee for his genetic experiments.

Ga'arret nods his head. "My mother was a Me'atal prisoner on death row. She was…after she gave birth, Ed'vard sent her back and- I am like you, in that way. All of the ones after me are, actually."

Astra's brows furrow, counting quickly – because the numbers would be disturbing if... "Khai, my husband-"

"The clone," Ga'arret says. "He's Seven. The six attempts before him were unsuccessful, which was why the Federation pulled the funding from Ed'vard's program after Seven was sold to the Terrans."

 _He's knowledgeable_ , Astra thinks with distant delight. He would prove to be especially useful, she thought. He probably knew everything about Ed'vard, even if he did speak too quickly.

"Then that would make Jaimes-"

"The Noh'med?"

"Yes."

"He's called Nine here. Ed'vard sold him to the Republic after cloning him after one of their government leaders."

"But we're not clones."

Ga'arret's silvery eyes are far too serious for as young as he is. It's terribly sad, but he continues to talk, even as he seems to pay heaps of attention to any faint echoes in the hallways. "No, we're not. Ten and Eleven were failures in trying to incubate fetuses in the laboratory again. He finally just decided to use alien women as living incubators after integrating modifications – we're each… _gifted_ in some way or another. Eleven was the last failure."

Astra swallows, aching to cradle the growing bump on her stomach with her hands, and loathing that she was unable to do so. "How many are there?"

Ga'arret opens his mouth to reply, but stops and stands abruptly, taking on a formal, detached posture that Astra recognized from Ja'asper – Ed'vard or someone else was watching again, then. The grey door slides open and a masked guard summons Ga'arret, calling him Twelve with such derision that Astra cringes.

Ga'arret doesn't even glance at Astra as he leaves.

It's probably for the best. She isn't sure what to think, anymore. The entire situation suddenly became much bigger than she had ever imagined.

***N*O*V*A***

Astra learns how to count days, once she catches onto the pattern the laboratory operates on. Every hour on the hour, a masked guard is sent into her room to check on her; every two hours, a medical professional, sometimes a lab tech, accompanies the guard to check on her rate of healing from the abominable surgery she'd been forced into; and every twelve hours, Ed'vard stopped by for a chat that revealed more horrendous plans, and left Ga'arret to "keep her company" for another hour until a guard would escort the twelfth experiment away.

So she is _very_ surprised when, halfway through the ninth hour before Ed'vard was due again on what Astra believes to be the third day since the abduction, someone appears in her room - out of thin air.

He's young – or, at least he _looks_ young, even if there's something in his oddly-colored eyes that is distinctly ancient – and he's wounded, pressing his palm to a deep, heavily bleeding gouge on his side, staining the silvery contraption strapped onto his arm. There's blood on his face. His expression carries a burden as if reflecting the weight of the armor on his shoulders and chest, or the obviously heavy boots on his feet.

Astra's mind races wildly – because _how_ -

The man coughs wetly and curses, looking at the grey walls of the room, as if checking for an enemy. Then, when he appears to be satisfied, he turns his gaze on Astra, pale face ashen in the bright light of the room. "You need to escape," he says resolutely, his expression crumpling into one of derision. "This is pitiful. She inherited _your_ telekinesis. Why haven't you used it?"

"Sorry," Astra replies automatically. " _Who_ inherited what?"

The young man stares at her blankly for a second. "I can't tell you that."

"What-"

"An entire future relies on you _getting out of here_. If you don't escape, a number of indescribably horrible things will happen. Hell, they may happen _any_ way," he says, wincing as he presses against his still bleeding wound, his other hand reaching to fiddle with the device on his arm. "And I can't stay any longer. She needed me five seconds ago, that stupid girl. How did she even figure out how to use this? Can't believe she sent me here against-"

Astra strains against the table, wanting to sit up to get a better look – to understand what was happening – but she is still tethered and he doesn't seem to be the patient type. "Who are you?"

He pauses. "Orion."

"And where did you come from-"

"That's not important," he says as the device on his arm blinks brightly. Orion nods once, looks up at her sharply. "Do whatever it takes to get out of here. You have to be just as stubborn as she is - she probably got it from you," he mutters, clicking a button on the device, his gaze challenging and the color of his eyes iridescent. "You'll have to shed blood. But she's worth it. And so is the future."

And then, as quickly as he appeared, Orion was gone. No flash, no noise. Just a blink and he'd disappeared.

Astra exhales sharply, reclining against the bed-

 _Was he…Impossible_.

But was it?

He spoke in that all-knowing way that Mari'Ahlice did as if he was privy to all the secrets of the future. But he wasn't Piarie – too tall and pale for that. Could he have been a time-traveler-

 _No. That's impossible_.

Astra pushes that train of thought away, because time travel, while theoretically possible, wasn't _plausible_. It couldn't be. If it was, the terrible Terran wars of the past would have been prevented. If someone had the power to change the past, they would. And since the past was still barbaric-

But the boy – Orion, even if he was a figment of her imagination, which she certainly suspected as there was no telling what Ed'vard was drugging her with – had a point. The telekinesis, something Ed'vard hadn't even _mentioned_ …

Astra gasps. "What if he doesn't _know_?" she whispers to herself.

That would be the very edge she needed. If Ed'vard didn't know she had inherited the telekinesis from R'anee – and why would he even suspect, because he was arrogant enough to think that if he didn't _program_ it into her genetics, then it didn't exist-

Astra smiles as her mind whirls with possibilities, moving so quickly that she has a difficult time keeping up with the processes. There was a flaw, of course. Her grip of skill with telekinesis was weak at best, and she would need her saber to get out of the room.

But that was what Ga'arret was for – he agreed to help her, after all.

She settles on the uncomfortable metal bed, chin set in determination. There were less than three hours until Ed'vard and Ga'arret would be back.

It was time to plan.

***N*O*V*A***

Jaimes' expression is grim as he pulls off the pressurized helmet, his sweaty hair flopping against the side of his face when he tucks the bulky helm under his arm. He was frustrated – and Khai, his brother, was _furious_.

They'd been checking every planet they came across that, according to Khai, could logically hide a scientific compound beneath an electromagnetic field. There weren't many planets left on the list before exploring new space would have to be an option. Jaimes didn't particularly want to do that. He didn't want to acknowledge that it would be necessary.

His sister had to be _somewhere_.

Noh'med's were particularly famous in Republic space for being ruthless savages, but thanks to good old Ed'vard, Jaimes was far from stupid – so he _knew_ that there were others like him, others like Astra. He'd been keeping tabs on Ed'vard. Fucker was slimmier than a goddamn Ehllhet and those assholes were literally covered in slime. Jaimes could count on one hand the number of times he'd almost had Ed'vard in his grasp – and each time, he'd been evaded.

Jaimes was a tracker. It was literally programmed into him. And he had more than one bone to pick with Ed'vard.

He wipes the sweat from his face, watching as Khai does the same with precise, tense movements. He felt bad for his brother. Fucker looked like he was dying, or something. Probably was, if Jaimes knew anything about Giidas bonds.

"We're going to find her," he says.

Khai's emotionless eyes turn on him. "I receive no comfort from perfunctory commentary."

Jaimes snorts. "Look, we've already gotten confirmation from Federation Command to broaden our search into the conquered hostile planets in Republic space, despite your Federation being uncomfortable with _mingling_. We have more possibilities. She's out there."

Khai nods, unzipping the spacesuit he wore, revealing overly familiar tattoos – the same ones that Jaimes wore on his skin, the kind that morphed into heavy armor. Jaimes was sure that if Khai wasn't so absorbed in this fucking tragedy, he'd be as curious as a Giidas could be about their relative similarities. He wondered just how similar-

Khai drops his helmet, the metal clunking heavily on the ground. " _Astra_."


	38. Part 3: 4

**4**

_Centaruian Quadrant, 2621_

"I have one condition," was the first thing out of Ga'arret's mouth as soon as the guards had left them alone in Astra's lab room. "There's someone here that I-I have to protect."

Astra twists her wrist inside the binding, holding her palm flat to Ga'arret. "Show me," she requests, feeling more _hayal_ than she had in her life. She was centered. Ready. Lethal. She had the confidence to back her up, something that must have shown on her face because Ga'arret does not hesitate to slip his hand across her own, a mind-meld instantly activated. Astra ignores the fact that, in Giidas culture and by Khai's standards, her palm-to-palm behavior was scandalous.

As far as Astra was concerned, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Ga'arret's mind was _hazy_ – that was the best she could describe it. Nothing was tangible, at least not on the surface. He was murky. It was explained once she delved just beneath the surface construction – Ga'arret's genetically programmed gift was that of physical intangibility when it was _reliable_ that is. It was fascinating to understand that his genetic ability was reflected in the structure of his mind.

Though she is tempted to explore the foggy depths more, purely out of curiosity, Astra pushes further, latching onto the bright spot that Ga'arret's mind protected fiercely. _Let me see_ , she tells him.

Ga'arret jumps, not used to a mind within his own, and allows Astra further after a moment of indecision. Astra gathered that Ga'arret's personality was entirely composed of indecision. It didn't bother her as long as this trait worked for her cause.

What Astra is exposed to next is a flurry of netted and incredibly disturbing memories – so much worse than Khai's, because Ga'arret hadn't ever been released from the Institution - _formerly the Giidas Science Institution, but condensed down to only Ed'vard's experimentations after he was terminated following the murder of the S'wann High Clan_ –and Ga'arret only knew of intimidation, experimentation, fear, pain, and _her_ , the only light he found, though he felt terribly conflicted about it because her age-

Her name was Kaitie. She was called Nineteen, with pale blond hair and familiar, though significantly more delicate, facial ridges; a Terran-Noh'med hybrid, only twelve years old.

 _She's too young,_ his thoughts blare mournfully. _And I am sicktwistedsick for wanting-_

 _Your desire is not sexual, Ga'arret,_ Astra reassures him as she backs out of his mind. It was the truth. The only desire Ga'arret held for Kaitie was that of protection; the other mature desires would come with time. Astra, nearly a mother, wasn't concerned for Kaitie's virtue – not when it was so clear that this indecisive man was blatantly decisive about his willingness to kill for the young girl.

She pulls her hand away from Ga'arret, watches with cool eyes as he flinches back when their mind connection is snapped off. There were so many others like Kaitie, as young as two years old, but all close in age. Nearly thirty by Ga'arret's count. The oldest was fourteen. All of them were captives. "We can get them out," she says, thinking of her plan.

Ga'arret watches her for a long moment, silver-metal brows furrowed as he watches her. "How?" he asks finally.

"You'll have to do the leg work," she says. "You'll need to get a key to free the others."

"I already have that," Ga'arret confesses. "I'm not authorized for the labs myself, but I deliver the food every day. I don't technically _need_ the key - with my, you know, intangibil- yeah. But I have a key anyway, for emergencies."

"Good," Astra sighs, tilting her head back. "That was the easy part then."

"You need something else?"

Astra feels her lips twist into a snark of a smile. "I'll need my saber."

She doesn't even need to look at Ga'arret to know that his face has paled and that he is already regretting agreeing to help her. "That," he says with a sigh. "That will be more difficult to get."

"And I need it by tonight."

She hears Ga'arret sigh, the stress of the mission clearly solidifying in his mind. She wonders what it looks like – if decisions Ga'arret finally settles on lose the intangible quality of his thoughts – but forces her own mind into a meditative trance. She needed to be focused, alert, ready. Rested.

The final guard of the night finishes his room checks with Astra's lab. She pretends to sleep and counts the moments – planned to the smallest second, communicated to Ga'arret during his earlier visit – until he leaves.

Then, she begins. It's difficult grasping the power; she is not skilled with it and the telekinesis she has inherited does not come as easily as the genetic modifications she has control over. But she pushes herself, tapping into a mental state similar to Khai's, a place where she can separate herself from her metabolic functions, monitor her child, count the seconds – and, abruptly, the telekinesis switches, her restraints slip apart, and Astra, for the first time in nearly a week, is able to sit up.

Her head pounds for a second – not in a painful way, because she will never feel pain again – before whatever strain she caused heals itself. Astra carefully disconnects herself from the vital monitors, standing from the bed to roll her neck, loosen her muscles.

 _This_ part comes easily. She learned this well at the Academy. Odd that it hasn't been too long since she and Ja'asper were sparring in a gravity chamber – odder still that it's not even been a _year_ since she first met Khai in the Egyptian desert.

Resolute, Astra focuses again. Nostalgia will only slow her down. Never has she been more grateful for her Giidas blood. She isn't sure how she would cope in this situation without the balance the alien qualities of her heritage offer.

By the time Ga'arret phases through the wall, Astra is appropriately limber. "I found your clothes," he offers, passing them over, eyes as serious as she had ever seen them.

It wasn't part of the plan, but Astra was thankful as he turns his back to her and she quickly changes into her uniform, partially pleased that the dress is too tight, and thrilled beyond reason to have the comfort of her armored tights. Her cloak is comforting around her shoulders, clunky boots a sure weight at her feet. "The saber," she says as she simply holds her hand out, fingers wiggling impatiently as he passes over her customized saber. She inspects it quickly, and then slips the hilt into her asymmetrical belt. "Are you ready?"

Ga'arret looks ready. She doesn't miss the tousle of his hair, or the flush to his cheeks – despite his serious demeanor, he felt unsure and brave and so very terrified. It was all written very clearly on his face. Still, it didn't seem to matter, either, because Ga'arret had taken the time to pack himself a small bag, which was strapped tightly across his chest and looked heavy. He carried no weapons himself, but Astra didn't think he would _need_ them.

"Are _you_ ready?" he asks instead.

Astra levels him with her most Giidas expression. "I was trained by the very best Me'atal security officer in the entire Federation, as well as the most intelligent, tactical professionals in the galaxy."

It's the best answer she can offer, even if she _truly_ wishes it was all over already and that she was safe in Khai's arms again. This escape – this plan – was a necessary risk. Strategic action.

She had a future to protect.

"Right, okay," Ga'arret replies, nodding twice. "Then, let's do this."

As far as motivational speeches went, it wasn't half-bad.

The first stage of the plan relied largely on Ga'arret's abilities, which Astra was able to witness first-hand as he curled his fingers around her forearm and squeezed his eyes shut. She could tell that he had to focus very hard, but for as much as his mind indicated his modified genetic gift was unreliable, Astra suspected Ga'arret worked very well under pressure. Phasing _through_ something was an odd, stomach-churning experience, though, and one Astra wasn't eager to repeat after she and Ga'arret passed through the wall and into the wide hallway.

According to Ga'arret, Astra's laboratory was on the second story of the building, far from the holding cells of the other experiments; as such, Astra followed Ga'arret down back hallways, their steps as light as air, guided only by his memory and the surrounding darkness. The first cell they came to housed two experiments – Fourteen and Fifteen – who were nearly a year younger than Astra. To say that the boys were shocked was an understatement, but they were eager to help, trusting in Ga'arret, and by extension Astra, to keep them safe. As Ga'arret phased through walls and brought experiments through, Astra stood guard, vigil with the growing mass of teenagers and children lingering in the hallway.

It was… _strange_ how well they obeyed Astra's instructions to stay quiet and help the younger children. Strange. But she was thankful because the teens her age were able to carry the most recent experiments, the group of triplet boys numbered from Forty-Three to Forty-Five, who were no older than two years.

"Kaitie is the last one," Ga'arret tells her.

Astra knew this already. Their extensive planning had taken place through a mind-meld not six hours ago, a day after Ga'arret agreed to help her. Astra _knew_ all about Kaitie's particular predicament, knew why they saved her for last, knew that because of how Kaitie was held isolated to her own cell that _Astra_ would be breaking her out personally and setting off the alarms. And it had to be Astra because she couldn't feel pain if Kaitie was spooked.

She nods, turns to the group of child-experiments, who come to attention with military precision as soon as she adjusts her own posture. She doesn't let in phase her, regardless of how _disturbing_ the sight of it is, all these children with shorn hair and stark white clothes, and expressions that didn't seem to understand any concept of innocence. "Fall into lines," she orders in a whisper. "Be prepared to break for the exit in thirty seconds."

Ga'arret steps away from the last door in the hallway, continuing Astra's instructions seamlessly. "The exit will be down the hall and to the left. If you are separated from the group, we will rendezvous at latitude 35.7-"

She tunes him out, reaching for her saber and, with a flick of her wrist after her weapon unlocks, coding her blood, the light a determined clear blue, Astra slices a square through the thick metal of the door. She winces at the blaring screech of the security alarm and kicks the door down.

Kaitie, young and delicate beyond reason, is bound to a padded chair in the middle of the room, her feet encased in water. She stares at Astra with expectation.

"Don't shock me," Astra says over the wailing alarm. "I'm pregnant."

Kaitie nods once and closes her eyes as Astra uses her saber to cut away the restraints. As soon as she is able, Kaitie slides from the chair and is across the room, drying her feet with a stray towel that was beneath her chair. "Want me to kill the system?"

Astra feels her brows twitch. She and Ga'arret didn't _expect_ Kaitie to use her genetic modification to further the escape, but she welcomed the surprise. "It would help."

Kaitie nods and, without hesitation, places her hands against the dull gray walls and _zaps-_

The alarm, the lights, the generators – they all short out as blinding bright bolts of electricity gather into Kaitie's palms, absorbing into her body.

It's silent. Too silent.

Then-

 _Guards_.

Astra turns back into the hallway, Kaitie slipping past her to join her fellow experiments, and Ga'arret begins leading them to the exit, moving faster than the echoing pounding of the guards racing in their direction. Astra pulls up the rear, saber drawn at the ready, running backward, ready for any threat.

At the exit point, Ga'arret doesn't hesitate, grabbing the teens holding the triplets by the shoulders and forcing them through the wall, his entire body holding the intangible phase that his form fades, flickers. But he continues, even when the guards spot their group at the end of the hallway.

Astra holds her ground.

It's all a blur.

She _knows_ Ga'arret is phasing everyone through, but he can only move so quickly and he wasn't ever trained to do so much at one time. And Astra's faith in him, while strong, is only bolstered by the fact that he hadn't faltered yet.

And so she couldn't falter either.

The first slice of the saber through the guard is traumatizing – the cauterized wound, the spray of blood, the smell of burnt flesh, and the heavy _thud_ of a body falling to the ground. The guards aren't armed with anything but electric prods. They're almost sickeningly easy to dismantle, and Astra _knows_ she won't be able to face all of the blatant murder she was committing for a very long time.

Or possibly ever.

She loses count of how many she cuts down, closes that part of her mind out until Ga'arret's hand is on her shoulder, pulling her back from the hallway of dead bodies and through the outer wall of the building.

It's _dark_ outside, and so very cold.

One of the experiments, Thirty-Three, is a directional empathy of sorts, and leads them through dense, heavy woods, winding them in circles that make their path so incredibly distorted until almost abruptly, he stops at a lowland valley of caves.

The experiments take shelter in the caves, spreading into the crevices while a Zainte-Terran called Twenty-Seven lights several small fires to ward off the cool of winter.

Ga'arret is exhausted and falls asleep quickly. His part was over. The first stage of the plan was complete.

Now, it was up to Astra. She hopes that she won't fail her extended family as she stays up, sitting vigil near the entrance of a cave while most of the experiments slept curled against one another.

She closes her eyes, exhaling heavily, pushing visions of blood from her mind. Her child-bond is safe and content. Her bond to Khai no longer feels as strained.

He must be close, then.

Good.

 _Khai_ , she calls gently, tugging on the silver thread that tethered them together. _Khai. Find me._

She waits, breathless, for his response.

Astra is not disappointed.


	39. Part 3: 5

**5**

_Centaruian Quadrant, 2621_

_ASTRA! Adun'a-_

_Khai, you need to locate me immediately. We've only recently escaped and I'm not sure how much longer I can keep everyone safe. They're all so young._

_I must know how-_

_We – the baby and I – are fine. We're okay. But find us quickly. I don't know if he has access to technology that can cut off our bond again._

_He? T'hy'la, who is he?-_

Astra exhales heavily. She knew Khai had no bindings to his father, but surely the news would feel like a betrayal of the worst kind. There was, however, no choice other than the truth, as Khai would immediately know if even an ounce of omission was used in the bond. _Your father. Ed'vard._

Khai's side of the bond is silent for a glaringly long moment, and then inexplicably muffled as his emotions surge; from her side, Astra feels the anger that he attempts to smother with quiet shock. It was the most emotion she had ever felt from Khai, aside from his devotion and love for her and their child. _He will pay for this-_

_Khai, we can't focus on revenge right now. There are too many others._

_Others._

_Yes. So many like us, Khai, and we're holed up in a cave. I don't know what kind of technology Ed'vard has available to him or if he can track these kids, so you need to hurry._

_Understood, adun'a._

And though he said this, Khai lingers for a moment, seemingly bathing in the comfort of their bond enough that it eases back his panic and anger – just enough so he can think as clearly and logically as he is able, Astra knows. Still, his near-refusal to leave her proverbial sides is a warm flare of comfort that she basked in for the quiet moment that she could.

There were other, more important things though. Survival, for one. Safety, for another, and she had the notion that providing safety for over thirty genetic experiments would be no easy task.

 _Go, Khai_ , she prods him.

 _Indeed_.

Reluctantly – or, at the very least, as reluctant as Khai allowed himself to be – their immediate communication faded into a simmering connection. It was a sense of normalcy, then, because Astra could _feel_ Khai in her mind and it hadn't truly occurred to her, how empty her mindscape felt when he wasn't also occupying it. She'd missed him, of course, between all the panic, the need for survival, the calculations – but she hadn't let herself fall into the bond sickness, hadn't given herself a spare moment to appreciate the fact that she missed him. And now that they were connected again – for the moment until Ed'vard surely did something to prevent that – she allowed herself to wallow in the familiarity, the comfort, and the strain their bond had suffered while it had been stretched too far and cut off.

Astra exhales after a long moment, turning away from the rocky, snowy terrain of whatever planet Ed'vard held them captive on, and taking sure steps back into the cave. There was work to be done – survival skills that she'd not used for a year rushing back to the forefront of her mind – and she didn't have any time to spare for considering her own feelings. There were too many people counting on her. The time for reflection would come later, and Astra suspected that the time would come with her curled beneath Khai's body with tears soaking the pillows of their quarters on the _Nova_.

One of the fires in the cave has begun to fade into embers, psionic flames or not, so Astra's first idle task is spent building the flames back up, carefully layering tinder and mostly dry sticks of some sort of wood that made the fire purple instead of red. Most of the experiments are still sleeping, the smaller children nested together in one of the far corners while some of the older experiments are spread out closer to the cave entrance.

A younger boy, perhaps only fourteen, with sun-bright hair and deeply tawny skin is awake, though, his eyes haunted, face cast by shadows from the purple fire. Astra watches him for a long moment, trying to calm the disquiet in her mind that they were all so young – _all_ so young, and never knowing that life existed beyond the laboratory that she just destroyed.

It had to be done, though.

Astra was certain of that, regardless of the doubts she faced at what she was doing – taking children from the only home they've ever known, exposing them to a universe that was filled with hatred and war. But the universe was composed of many good things, so many more opportunities for people like them – and Astra knew about opportunity. Knew how to find one and take it. Knew that she had to teach these kids something before Khai arrived or Ed'vard found them.

They needed to know about _life_.

And love. Acceptance. Compassion.

She kneels beside the boy. "What do they call you?"

His eyes are sharp as he stares at her and she must wonder what she looks like, her black uniform spattered with tacky blood, obviously pregnant, and enormously exhausted. "My designation is Sixteen."

"Yes, but what is your _name_?"

"I don't understand," he tells her, whisper-quiet. "I don't understand. I can't- where do we go? What do we do? What can we-"

"The first thing you should do," Astra tells him, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, careful to avoid skin contact. "The first thing you _need_ to do is decide what your name will be."

And though she says this, she isn't sure how to entirely process the fact that Ga'arret had named himself, and that Kaitie had been named, and perhaps a few others as well – but there were experiments like Sixteen who didn't even have the notion that he should have any other name from his designation. It didn't occur to him that he could, not in all the time he spent locked in that lab.

"You need a sense of identity," Astra continues. "You need to know who you are and what you want to do now that you're free."

"I'm not free. We can _never_ be free, don't you understand? My designation is all that I have!"

Astra hushes him as his voice, sharp and distressed, cuts through the light snores of the sleeping experiments. "You _are_ free," she asserts. "You are _free_ from that place, free from that awful man, and free from any obligation you might have had there. You are your own person, now. I promise you."

He stares at her with wide eyes, licking his lips nervously, hands shaking as he pushes his hair away from his face. "You promise?"

"Yes," she says simply, silently promising that she would kill anyone and anything that tried to take these children, even if she had to live with nightmares for the rest of her life. It would be _worth_ it.

"What-uh, what do they call you? Not your designation," he clarifies quickly. "But your name?"

"I call myself Astra."

"What does it mean?"

"Astra means ' _from the stars'_."

His brows furrow, befuddlement clear on his face as he continues asking questions, anxiously wondering why she chose the name, what it had to do with her appointed skill. But she is patient, understanding that he had to _grasp_ the fact that he was safe before he could understand that he was free to call himself something other than an assigned number.

"I can, uh, my skin can secrete a poison. If I want. It…they used me, sometimes, on the others…the disobedient ones…"

Astra bites her tongue. This, at least, explained why he kept himself a bit sequestered from the other experiments.

"I'm lethal," he says shakily. "They would z-zap me, and-and then I would, my hands would…and then they would force me to hold hands- I didn't _want_ to. I didn't want to…I didn't…and they couldn't _breathe_ or move or-"

"Hemlock," Astra says suddenly, a connection of information from her days of travel springing to the surface of her mind. "That sounds like what happens to people who touch a certain plant on Terra."

"A plant?" he murmurs.

Astra squeezes his forearm. "They don't blame the plant, you know. The plant didn't ask to be poisonous and it doesn't want to hurt anyone, because it's just a plant. I think you're the same way. You didn't want to hurt anyone, but you couldn't help what Ed'vard used you for in the lab. It was beyond your control. You're still a _child_."

"The others, though…"

"I'm sure the older ones understand. I'm sure they were all forced to do the same, if not worse. It wasn't your fault."

His eyes drop down to his hands and he nods after a long moment. "Hemlock," he says finally. "I like the name. I like the reason."

Astra feels herself smiling faintly.

Hemlock, formerly known as Sixteen, and a cross-breed between two alien species that Astra didn't even know _existed_ – a boy with sunshine hair and nervous hands.

"Do you think the others would like names, Hemlock?"

He smiles widely, starting at the name, his laugh touched by the barest of nerves. "I-I think they would. Yes."

Astra turns her head, gazing at the dawning sky, a mottled purple-blue-pink beyond snow and heavy forest, the chill in the cave anything but forgiving. "Then let's wake everyone and see if we can't give everyone their own name."

Hemlock agrees quickly, standing, and waiting for Astra to rise from the harsh cave floor.

And she knows it will be difficult and that perhaps she should be spending this time on other, more pressing issues – like hunting for food, or maintaining their cover by slinking into deeper caves and keeping everyone quiet and hushed – but she can't move on knowing that they don't have names. She can't take another step forward without the assurance that, when they leave this place – because they will be leaving this horrid planet – they will have their own identities outside of the trauma Ed'vard inflicted.

She's determined to see this through, until even the smallest experiment is named – it was a basic right that all living organisms deserved to have, regardless of being created in a lab or by the graciousness of nature.

***N*O*V*A***

"Have you tracked it yet?"

"Yes."

"Well, where is it?" Jaimes demands impatiently, hovering over Khai's shoulder as the Commander smoothly operates the ship's tracking and mapping technology, finalizing coordinates of where Astra's mindscape was coming from as the rest of the bridge crew looked on, anxious.

If Giidas believed in miracles, then it would surely be considered a miracle that the bond between Khai and Astra managed to connect given the unsatisfactory difference between where the _Nova_ roamed the galaxy and where Astra's mind appeared to be located. It was exceedingly far, much too separated by distance for the bond to be active by any normal standards. However, Khai acknowledged that this was not a normal circumstance and postulated that perhaps the bond's elasticity compensated for the light-years that kept him from his _adun'a_ and child.

"This is the location," he points out tonelessly, gazing blankly at a holograph of this section of the universe – a section that he and Jaimes had already searched.

"Right there?"

"Indeed."

"Are you sure?"

"Unequivocally," Khai asserts, distantly annoyed at the incredulity of his brother's tone.

"It's a _moon_."

Khai was aware of what the holograph and map indicated. "It is not."

"What the ever-loving _fuck_ are you talking about-"

Mari'Ahlice's serene voice cuts in, her eyes glazed as she looks beyond the bridge window and into the abyss of space. "The planet is cloaked by Ed'vard's technology," she clarifies.

"Fucking _great_."

Khai, though, is newly determined. The Piarie girl had all but confirmed Ed'vard was _there_ , and undoubtedly involved in Astra's abduction. He embraces the trace amounts of anger he allows himself to feel and speaks to Emet at the helm. "Set a course."

"Now, we can't just go charging in-"

Khai settles a steely glare on Godric, his captain, his mentor, the Terran trying to stand in his way. "Set a course," he repeats lowly, then to Jaimes, "Ready an escape pod for initial atmosphere breach."

_I am coming for you, adun'a._

Khai had a plan.

***N*O*V*A***

Astra had a plan.

Astra had a plan and it wasn't exactly working because the children were hungry and she was exhausted and, for reasons beyond her own comprehension, she had not foreseen that it would take Khai a while to find her.

She knew he was on the planet somewhere – he'd told her everything he was doing as he was doing it, from cloaking the escape pod, to entering the atmosphere, to Jaimes' spastic driving, to landing somewhere in what Khai called the northern forestry. She knew he was trampling through the dense, snowy landscape and she knew, with each passing minute, that he grew increasingly frustrated with the slow pace at which he had to travel.

But she also knew that they had been in hiding since dawn and that she could only ask over fifty finally-free children to remain quiet and secluded in a cave for so long. It was cold. They were all hungry. The littlest ones cried.

So her plan needed to be modified.

She holds her hand out to the next of the experiments, a girl with flaming hair and classic Noh'med ridges who they called Victioria because she could predict victories in battle. Victioria takes her hand with little-masked trepidation and Astra very quickly pushes images into the ten-year-old girl's mind. "You can trust these people," Astra says, repeating what she had been telling every experiment in the line. "They're my crew. Go with them if they come for you before I get back."

Victioria nods as if she understands, but Astra highly doubts that she does. It's an incredibly stressful, scary situation and the person who broke them all out of the lab is leaving them behind in the cave, _alone_.

It's not like Astra had much of a choice, though. She wouldn't force these children to starve, not when she had the means and the skill to get them food to eat while they awaited rescue.

The short mind-meld exchange continues until even the smallest child, merely a three-year-old they called Crimson, had received a host of images of every crewmember Astra could remember seeing on the _Nova_. Each time she broke the exchange, her fingers trembling and tingling, she would get a little flavor of the child's mind – she doubted the connection would ever fade, given the circumstances in which the connection was formed.

At large, she addresses the group, "I'm going hunting. I _will_ be back soon. I promise. If my crew finds you first, go with them. You can trust them, just as you can trust each other," she says, pausing, checking that her saber was strapped onto her hip and ignoring the blood droplets on the hilt. "Protect each other. Use the abilities you have."

Hemlock steps forward, his hands twisting anxiously. "But what-"

Astra cuts him off. "Hemlock, if anyone comes into the cave that doesn't match one of the images I gave you, I want you to touch them. Kill them if you must."

His eyes widen. "But that's murd-"

Astra swallows, throat dry. She can't even _believe_ that she's advocating murder to children who have known the harshest, most unforgiving life, but she can't do anything else. It's only _logical_ at this point. "It will be self-defense if you have to use your ability, okay?"

Hemlock and a few others with extremely offensive powers – laser fingers, sonic screeching, strength, Kaitie – nod hesitantly. She knows how twisted it is to tell them that murder under certain conditions is okay, knows that she's struggling with the same concept after what she did…but…

"Anyone with offensive powers, it's your job to camouflage, confuse, escape, or do whatever it is that you can do so your brothers and sisters won't have to kill. Everyone needs to be performing admirably."

And – that's what Khai used to say. It's what he said. _Performing admirably_. Astra didn't think she could be any more _married_.

Zaf'rina, a prepubescent girl with the ability to cloak just about anything with a projection from her mind – a stellar, incomparable gift – follows Astra to the mouth of the cave.

"You know what to do," Astra says to the girl as she steps into the tundra, turning to watch the cave fade away from sight. It's startling to see it happening – to see a cave filled with children and purple fires dissolve into an unmarred image of a snow-trodden forest of angular trees.

Zaf'rina was _good_.

Astra turns away, closing her eyes and listening to the forest around her, bringing back every memory from her childhood as a gypsy. She'd hunted before – had to in Morocco and Brazil, and especially in Greenland – and it was something she was good at, even if she rarely _had_ to do it. Even if Nanini's memory frowned on eating the flesh of animals.

Opening her eyes, Astra walks through the icy forest, steps sure and silenced beyond the crunch of snow falling off branches. She moves as she imagined a feline might, or as she imagined the primal Giidas ancestors in her blood might have moved while hunting, and she keeps her body crouched, knowing that the stark black of her uniform did her no favors.

The bond to her child is calm and strong, but Astra can sense that her child – a son, she thinks – is hungry as well.

This invigorates Astra, who is hungry enough to faint and swoon – and that's so familiar to her childhood that she shudders in the cold. She pushes past the intense hunger, waiting for game in the quiet forest once she has perched herself beneath a looming tree in an optimal location, saber drawn and humming lowly.

Khai's side of the bond is quiet, occupied as he continues through the forest, following the link of their minds. Astra gives the occasional tug that he acknowledges but does not reply to – and she understands. He's too focused to do anything but rescue. Astra hops that her separation from the group may clear up any lingering interference.

She knows, though, that he will find her.

Astra expects nothing less.

***N*O*V*A***

Khai actually struggles to keep his face resolute and blank when he feels another leading tug from Astra's side of the bond. His _adun'a_ was smart, understood him so well, and understood him more than he understood himself. Astra understood that he didn't require the distraction of her mind-commentary and obliged this as best as she was able.

But Khai wasn't a fool. Astra may not have indicated that she was willingly separated from the group of experiments, but the pregnancy – or perhaps exhaustion – had made her mind weaker than normal, and Khai was privy to many thoughts that Astra wasn't aware she passed along.

"She is this way," Khai says as he turns .47% to the left.

"That's so freaky."

Khai ignores Jaimes.

Astra is close.

A crack follows their footsteps in the distance and Khai stops, whipping his head around as Jaimes pulls out his guns, aiming them in two different directions.

Astra is close, but someone else is closer.

***N*O*V*A***

She isn't sure that the creature is more like a bear or more like a deer. She is sure that whatever it is must have been a carnivore while it was alive – given the sharp teeth – and that for as lean as it is, the animal was healthy and both large enough to feed many but small enough for Astra to drag with her.

Sabers, as it turns out, are terribly convenient for hunting. Because of the heat of the laser cauterizing as it cuts, there was very little blood to be found – odd, given the amount of blood that caked her uniform from earlier, but Astra supposes her attack at the laboratory had been far less deliberate than this hunting incident. She was careful and quiet as she killed the bear-deer; at the lab, she knew not the meaning of either of those words.

Slipping her saber back into her belt, Astra wraps her fingers around the hind legs of the animal, grunting lowly as she pulls the animal along behind her. It was _much_ heavier than it looked. And-

"I should just cut that baby out of your stomach," a harsh voice says from behind her. Ed'vard. "Or just kill you with your own saber."

"Killing me wouldn't be advantageous," Astra says as she sends out an urgent, unrestrained beacon to Khai, screaming for him in her mind because there was a terrifying crazy glint in Ed'vard's eyes that was so _not_ Giidas.

Ed'vard bares his teeth. "You're more trouble than you're worth, you insignificant trash."

Astra swallows, standing at her full height. "I'm not afraid of you."

Her creator shrugs dismissively. "I don't need you to fear me."

And that didn't sound good _at all_ – but Astra wasn't going to wait around as Ed'vard _monologued._

_Khai, please hurry. Tell me that you're close._

_Distract him, adun'a._

Astra steps back, adrenaline singing in her veins. Oh, she wants to _kill_ Ed'vard – but she's killed so many today, and Khai deserves the kill more than Astra does. If he doesn't hurry, though, Astra may not have a choice, even if Ed'vard doesn't appear to have any weapons.

He's still completely unhinged.

There's nothing more dangerous than that.

"If you don't want fear," Astra says as smoothly as possible. "What do you want?"

"What else? _Power_ , stupid girl. I want power. I am _God_ to those experiments – a creator, a father to them. To all of you. You should all worship me."

"I worship no one," Astra says, her ears picking up a noise echoing through the woods, a noise that _Ed'vard_ doesn't hear because now he's laughing manically.

Ed'vard sneers. "Except for my clone's cock-"

Something – or someone – hits Ed'vard from behind and he pitches forward onto the snowy ground beside Astra's kill. "Oh, shut up. You're more annoying than I remembered," Jaimes sighs.

There is no adequate description for the elation or the fluttering of her heart that Astra feels when Khai's face is revealed. She _missed_ him, and by the way he steps over his father and publically wraps his arms around Astra, he missed her as well.

Their bond sings at the reunion.

And Jaimes kicks Ed'vard in the ribs, looking at Khai as the old man shrinks onto the snow. "That's the freakiest thing I've ever seen. Doesn't that freak you out? He has your face."

"Kill me if you're going to kill me," Ed'vard spits from the ground.

And Khai – it looks like he's seriously considering it, and even from his mind, the intention to kill Ed'vard is there.

But then Astra unwittingly sends an image of all those children in the cave and Khai's marginally stormy expression changes into something comfortably blank.

"I will not kill you," he says slowly, deliberately. "But you will be retained for arrest under the United Federation-"

"-and Republic-" Jaimes injects swiftly.

"-laws and sent to trial. I will find no satisfaction in killing you by my own hand."

Jaimes snorts. "Well, _I_ would find satisfaction in it, but I agree that killing you now would be too kind."

***N*O*V*A***

They don't kill Ed'vard.

Instead, once all of the children, plus Astra, Khai, and Jaimes, are on board the _Nova_ , Ed'vard is imprisoned and guarded by half a fleet of Federation security, where he will remain until court officials from both the Federation and the Republic some to get him for trial.

Astra is only slightly disappointed that the entire rescue goes as smoothly as it does. Her main concern is seeing that each of the children – because they are so much more than experiments – are looked over by Carl and sent into the guest quarters on the _Nova_ , where they will stay until their genetic home-planets and governments decide what to do with them. Astra, though, secretly hopes that she can stay with the children and help them grow into their abilities, just like Nanini did with her.

She only allows Carl to examine her after all of the others are looked at, much to Khai's internal displeasure; however, she and their baby and perfectly fine, if not a little shook up.

Khai spends a very long time assuring himself of this, examining every inch of Astra's body and mind in the privacy of their quarters, his mouth hot, fingers demanding, and body trembling over her. He leaves dark lavender bruises along her collarbone and neck, his scent strong from the inside of her body where his ejaculate leaks between her thighs, his mind clawing and possessive, even as his words are murmured and his touch is increasingly gentled. Astra, for her part, doesn't mind and makes a point to leave her own marks on his body.

Silently, they both promise that nothing like this will ever happen again.

That promise remains true for several subsequent years.

* * *


	40. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

A small girl of three years old gazes unseeingly into a vast silvery fountain in the center of her mother's garden, eyes the color of unblemished aquamarines, hair a startling shade of mercury-blue to compliment the pale shade of her skin, which has knuckles and joints that shine silver.

Behind her, a baby of six months toddles and babbles at a group of adults – another girl, this one with eyes like slate and ears curved into points.

"She is a genius," one of the men says with barely disguised fondness.

"Yes, Khai," a woman sighs. "Our daughter will be just as annoyingly logical as you and Rhydian."

"Indeed."

The group of adults laugh, and then begin talking about something that the mercury-haired girl doesn't understand – something about a nova and a warp core – and Rhydian, a boy only a year or so older, steps up beside the girl.

"What are you looking at?" he asks.

The girl, Tulia, looks up with solemn aquamarine eyes. "Our future."

Rhydian stares at her for a moment as his younger sister, the infant that the adults cooed over for how intelligent she was proving to be, toddled over, placing her little hand on Tulia's neck to regain her balance as she wobbles.

Tulia gasps, her eyes widening and darting back to the fountain water, her breath leaving her tiny body in a rush of images that she doesn't understand – a boy with constellation skin, a teenage with familiar slate eyes, a man leaning forward with affection – as Rhydian carefully separates his sister's hand from Tulia's skin.

"Eden, we're not supposed to touch people," he whispers.

But it's too late.

Tulia's mother, a woman with a silver circlet and rose quartz eyes, kneels down, grasping Tulia's hands. "The Gods showed you the destiny," she soothes. "You know what to do."

"I will guide Eden," Tulia promises.


	41. Outtake 1

**Outtake 1**

" _Adun'a_ , if you would simply use the _hayal_ -"

Astra bares her teeth at Khai, a hiss she didn't even know she was capable of striking through her throat – the sound brimming with pain and frustration because-because-

 _Can't you – just this once –_ not _be so calm? There is a person coming out of my body, Khai!_

The pain was a surprise, honestly. Astra isn't sure what she had been expecting, because it was her first child, but she'd assumed that the 27th century would have made childbirth easier on females. As it was, perhaps if Astra had not been half-Giidas, the entire ordeal might have been easier; but in her third trimester, she, Khai, and Carl had all been extremely surprised by the quickening of Astra's metabolism. She felt like she was constantly eating, and now due to this metabolism, Carl couldn't administer pain medication.

Perhaps unfairly, Astra blamed Khai.

She blamed him a lot.

As if to emphasize this, she squeezes his hand hard enough to feel his bones creak during the next contraction and though Khai is doing his best to monitor and dull her pain receptors through their bond, he _isn't doing enough_.

Which she tells him.

Loudly.

" _T'hy'la,_ " Khai says softly, such a contrast to Astra's wild emotions, her blaring declarations promising pain to Khai's stupid genitals, and her overall uncontrollable need to take the pain out on someone else. "Perhaps meditation-"

" _Meditation?_ Are you _kidding_ me?"

"I assure you, Astra, I am perfectly serious-"

"Er, C-Commander, uh, Khai," Carl injects from across the room, where he is almost cowering against the wall, watching with wide blue eyes as Astra digs her silvered nails deep into Khai's skin. "I might suggest another method of calming the Lieutenant-"

Astra screams through the next contraction, then turns her mood onto Carl. If she had been paying attention to Khai, she might have seen a very brief wave of relief flash over his face. She didn't though, too busy reaming Carl for not predicting this complication in her metabolic functions, "If you were a _good_ doctor, you would have-!"

Nurse Esmeralda, continuously calm and ready with a sterling smile, comes into the room from the _Nova_ 's medical bay. "Let's check your dilation."

Thankfully – Astra can't even comprehend how _happy_ she is that she can finally _push_ – it's time and Khai remains by Astra's side through the following bursts of irrational anger and pain. Carl watches from a safe distance, allowing Esmeralda to deliver Astra and Khai's first child with all the grace of a woman who had _never_ given birth to a three-fourths Giidas baby…boy.

Even tight with exhaustion, Astra is nothing short of _smug_ as she looks up at Khai when their son is being quickly cleaned and examined by Doctor Carl. "I told you it was a boy."

"Indeed," Khai breathes, his eyes locked onto their son's tiny body being swaddled in soft space-grey blankets.

Astra smiles and cries – or cries through her smile, she isn't sure – because Khai is absolutely enamored and she knows that despite his own childhood and perhaps even because of it, he will be an excellent father.

She lets him old their son first. Khai sits beside her on the gel-bed as Esmeralda and Carl leave them alone to deliver the happy news to the crew of the _Nova_ , who were more family than Astra could have ever dreamed to have. In his arms is a tiny baby boy with lilac-bright cheeks and tightly closed eyes, minuscule ears curved into perfect Giidas points, and a swath of bronzed hair at the very top of his head, fists curled around Khai's long finger.

"He's perfect," she sighs, eyes heavy, sweat plastered to her forehead and neck.

Khai nods, unblinking. "Rhydian is," he agrees, finally forcing his eyes away from his son to press a lingering kiss against Astra's temple.

Her thought as she loses the battle for sleep is this: _Rhydian means blessed_.


	42. Outtake 2

**Outtake 2**

Ahlice did not understand Ja'asper's hesitation.

She wanted him.

He wanted her.

And the Gods smiled upon the union.

It was very simple – yet Ja'asper seemed unable to fully grasp the concept, and managed to protest the union with a variety of creative reasons. The one he seemed to be particularly stuck on was the fact that Mari'Ahlice was, in fact, of royal blood. He saw himself as a warrior, a mere soldier, and held onto the antiquated idea that a _princess_ should never be with a working-class citizen.

Me'atal, Ahlice knew, did not have a royal government, so perhaps that explained why Ja'asper didn't fully believe her when she asserted that the Piaries had no such cares of these social constructs so long as the Gods blessed the union. Which the Gods did. In several visions. For Ahlice's entire _life_.

Ja'asper had an unwavering moral compass.

Borrowing the Terran vernacular, Ahlice thought this was a "drag".

After consulting with her Gods, Mari'Ahlice knew what to do about this – something more visceral to prove to Ja'asper that she was no longer loyal to the Piarie throne she renounced years ago, in spite of her father's warnings. King Father was never one to have total belief in the Gods, anyway. He did not have Ahlice's Sight.

Reaching up with pinked hands, Mari'Ahlice removes the silvery circlet from the crown of her deep magenta hair, placing the Piarie tiara she wore out of respect for her Gods onto the built-in nightstand beside her bed in the quarters assigned to her in the _Nova_ starship.

She then sends Ja'asper a missive on the tiny com she carried on her person, requesting his presence in her quarters immediately.

Then she strips naked, standing nude before her bed, prepared to prove to Ja'asper that, for him and for the future, she was willing to cast away her religion and her royalty, just as she was willing to surrender her flesh to his whims.

It was the only option.

He needed to _see_ , just as Ahlice could See.

She doesn't fully understand his wide-eyed reaction when he overrides the codes of her room, standing frozen as the door slides closed behind him, fine silver joints glinting off low light.

"Ja'asper," she greets serenely.

His expression hardens. "Mari'Ahlice. I thought we agreed that-"

Ahlice shakes her head. "Your restraints on the present affect the future too greatly. I will wait no longer."

Ja'asper falters, icy blue eyes struggling to stay focused on her face. Ahlice doesn't understand the gallant behavior. If he wanted to look, he should look. She tells him so, and Ja'asper releases a subvocal sound of want that sends a delicious shiver down Ahlice's spine, pooling low in her body.

She reaches for him, silently pleading, appealing to him in the way that all Piarie females have appealed to their mates since the Gods gave them bodies. Her lips part and whatever it was that was holding Ja'asper back seems to crumble in his eyes, his _cold_ body wrapping around Ahlice's, hard and unrelenting and so perfect.

She is glad that she saved herself for him.

No other could ever complete her so thoroughly, like a Terran puzzle piece that still manages to surprise her, even though her Sight made surprises impossible.

After, when his body is still thrumming within hers, with Ja'asper's lips soft on her skin and her hands twined in his wild blonde hair, Ahlice smiles with all of her teeth – the most uncouth a Piarie princess could ever hope to be.

"We shall name her Tulia," she tells Ja'asper in a breathless whisper.

"Who?" Ja'asper murmurs against her skin.

"Our daughter."

Ja'asper freezes, pulling back a fraction to stare at Ahlice with what she believes to be incredulity. "Ahlice, are you saying…?"

"Of course. The Gods have shown me our future."

And then she smiles happily, because it was all so obvious.

Undeniably.


	43. Outtake 3

**Outtake 3**

Khai enters their quarters with a shaken expression, causing Astra to stop cooing incoherently at Rhydian to stare at her _adun_ staring at their son. _Their son._

Some days, she couldn't even comprehend the fact that he was alive and growing; most days, she didn't even remember the shocking pain of his birth. She and Khai would only theoretically attribute to some mix of malfunction between Astra's hybrid-status, implanting a genetic fix _after_ Astra had already grown into other abnormalities and the fact that Ed'vard was _very_ prone to making mistakes for a scientist that supposedly likened himself to a God. Except for Rhydian's birth, Astra hadn't felt an ounce of pain and there wasn't any way to find an explanation for it now. Khai and Carl were stumped, even if they didn't admit it. It was scary to constantly feel no pain, though. Astra once cut herself very badly visiting Rosy on the engineering deck and she hadn't realized it until she passed out from blood loss. Khai had been almost feral that day, sequestering both Astra and Rhydian to their quarters. For now, it was an awareness she lived with and something she pondered every time she remembered giving birth to her child.

Rhydian, sweet with cherub cheeks and solemn eyes just like his father's, babbles once, patting his hand against a Pad aimlessly. His expression lights up only slightly, but Astra knows enough about Giidas emotions – and can feel in the child-bond she has with her son – to understand that little three-month Rhydian was absolutely ecstatic. His father, on the other hand, was literally speechless. His mind was something like white noise.

Appropriately worried, Astra places her hand on Rhydian's head. "Khai? What is it?"

Khai blinks at Astra, seemingly coming back to himself. " _T'hy'la_."

Astra probes his mind, but finds nothing obvious that could be bothering him, aside from some interaction with Ahlice after the Alpha shift. Which…actually. "What did Mari'Ahlice say?"

Khai's eyes snap to Astra's, his internal thoughts silently wondering how Astra knew – and, of course, this only confirmed Astra's suspicions, because Khai was always so _in charge_ of his thoughts.

"She indicated that our son would have a bond-mate."

Astra blinks at him, gently hooking her hands beneath Rhydian's arms to hold him to her breast once she felt the tiny tingle of _hungerwanthunger_ from his little mind. "Okay," Astra prompts as Rhydian latches on, humming tunelessly at her baby because Rhydian's bond always lit up bright pink in happiness when she sang to him. "Khai, he will grow up eventually," she settles on once Khai doesn't respond.

"To a Piarie-Me'atal," Khai clarifies, apparently perturbed.

Astra's brows lift marginally. "Hmm," she hums, directing her attention to Rhydian. "If you're to woo a little princess, let's hope you have better manners than your father."

" _Adun'a_? I am unsure as to your meaning."

Astra smiles at her husband, shrugging a shoulder. "You _did_ tackle me into hot sand, Khai. Not the best first impression."


	44. Outtake 4

**Outtake 4**

He was an idiot. An idiot with a stupidly rugged face and moronically large biceps and a dumbly jolly attitude. Just a…a stupid idiot, that's what he was.

"If you were a laser, you'd be set to stunning," Rosy mutters to herself, her annoyance showing as she clangs a wrench against a bolt that was already tight enough. She scoffs. "Yeah, Emet. Well, if you were a laser, you'd be set to moron. How about that?"

She was talking to herself.

It was embarrassing.

It was also scaring the Ensigns, which was while Lieutenant Angela had sent Rosy down a deck below with no formal orders because Rosy's newly calibrated warp core was predictably operating at the highest caliber.

She sighs heavily, closing her eyes as she leans her forehead against the metal wall. "Oh, my Fire God. I'm in _lust_ with that idiot."

It was the only explanation, of course.

There was no way – absolutely _no way_ \- that she was in love with Emet.

She refused to accept it.

So, lust it was.

A burning lust that made her entire body quiver, full of want for muscular arms and cool breath and hot skin – sweat and musk and passionate fucking-

"Stop, stop, stop _thinking_ ," she tells herself harshly, punctuating the thought with one final slam of her forehead against solid metal. She drops the wrench in her hand and pushes her blond hair back, licking her lips.

Rosy had been trying to weeks, _months_ , to get Emet out of her head, but it was impossible because he was constantly _flirting_ , dropping by the engineering deck with these dumb pick-up lines and an idiotic dimpled smile and eyes that matched hers, the colors swirling together.

At first, she thought maybe simply fucking him would get him out of her head. But it didn't – if anything, the fucking made it all so much _worse_ , because he was trying to win her over now, wanting her for more than just a body, and it didn't help that Astra and Ahlice were _glowing_ mothers.

This wasn't how Rosy's life was supposed to go.

She left Zaintes to be an engineer, to send money to her family, to live out her dreams – which is what she had been doing. She wasn't supposed to…to fall into lust with some Anzite idiot who _understood_ her and everything.

Emet was messing everything up. Messing with her _head_. The idiot.

 _Fire God_ , but did Rosy still crave him.

Which is why she isn't surprised Emet finds her not five minutes later. The Zaintes and Anzites might not have that freaky mind-meld thing the Giidas did, but they were partial psionic, and, fuck, Emet could probably smell her want from the bridge.

He plasters his body against her back, caging her to the metal wall, all cool everywhere her body was so hot, one of his hands curling around her own.

Rosy waits for Emet's inevitable lame Terran come-on, but it never arrives. Instead, very slowly, very _possessively_ , Emet trails his large hand down Rosy's arm, across her collarbone, and down to her breast, squeezing firmly, flicking her nipple through her uniform jumpsuit.

"I declare myself," he murmurs hotly against her skin, blunt teeth scraping across the side of Rosy's neck.

She shudders, trembling against his broad chest as his other hand follows the same path, this time dipping even lower to the juncture of her spread thighs, his hips thrusting once against the base of Rosy's spine.

" _Do you accept_?" he asks in the shared native of their languages.

A strangled moan escapes Rosy's throat because _damn him_. It's not just lust. It never was and Gods, their eyes _proved_ that it wasn't just lust – colors didn't just swirl together like that for their races. It meant _something_.

Rosy nods, craning her head back against his shoulder as Emet's attentions escalate, her breasts heaving when he releases them from her uniform. "Yes, you idiot," she agrees breathlessly, not bothering to mute herself when Emet fucks her roughly below deck, the hum of her warp core background to their passion.


	45. Outtake 5

**Outtake 5**

"Rhydian," Khai greets tonelessly, but with so much warmth in their shared _father-son_ mind link. His first-born is currently sequestered in his room with a Pad. Astra had claimed rather smugly that Rhydian was pouting, but Khai had denied her claim, logically pointing out that Rhydian was now seven years of age and far past the time in his life where he would succumb to emotional outbursts.

However, the evidence now speaks for itself.

His son is pouting.

"Father," Rhydian replies with a mutter.

Khai feels his brows twitch. _Pouting indeed_.

"Would you prefer to share or shall I make the appropriate logical deductions?"

Rhydian pushes his Pad away and clasps his hands solemnly. "It is Eden," he says eventually. "She is progressing much quicker than I did and I find myself irrationally…jealous."

Khai is not as familiar with expressing his emotions and responding to the expression of others as his _adun'a_ , but his son appears to inspire some trace of emotional intelligence. When he responds, it is with a mimic of the gentle cadence he has heard Astra use in responding to similar issues between the siblings. "You excel with skills and in areas that Eden does not. It is illogical to be jealous of her prolific skills when your own are hard-earned."

Rhydian's calm eyes stare up and he flashes a very sudden smile. "Indeed, Father."

Khai smiles in kind.

He smiles only at his family.


	46. Outtake 6

**Outtake 6**

Victioria is nothing short of determined, Jaimes will give her that – that's all he _can_ give her without his conscience digging fingers in deep to stop him from acting on his desires. She's young, is the thing. Not so much younger that his pirate self would be a criminal, but young enough that her age gives him pause.

At his core, Jaimes knows he's a criminal. Sure, a criminal with often good intentions, but a criminal nonetheless and _Victioria_ is innocent. She may act like she's not innocent, but they both know better.

"Fuck," he says as he walks into his quarters, closing the door firmly behind him. He's hard – how could he not be after that display in the hallway?

Jaimes punches the wall, denting the steel-hard metal, cherishing the pain to distract him from his urges. He's constantly at war with himself around her and each day he grows weaker.

Victioria exploits his weakness, senses how close she is to winning him as if he is the greatest battle she has ever fought. She uses her genetic modifications against him and tonight was the final straw.

"Fucking _fine_ ," he says to himself, pulling off his shirt. "She wants to fuck and get a mate, that's exactly what she's going to get."

Jaimes slams his door open and stalks out in the hallway, stopping short when he sets his sights on Victioria lounging against the wall with a smug expression. She licks her lips and he reaches out with harsh hands, dragging her curvy body against his own, claiming her mouth in the exact manner he plans to claim her body.

"You fucking _win_ ," he breathes into her mouth, gnawing at her plush lips.

Pressed against the wall, covered by his larger body, Victioria giggles, drags her nails hard enough down his shirtless back that she leaves blood in her wake. "I always do."


	47. Outtake 7

**Outtake 7**

"Don't feign right," Ja'asper orders. "Go left. That's my weak side."

Ga'arret is hesitant. It's his nature to evade and defend, not fight in the ruthless Me'atal way that Astra and Ja'asper favored – and it was going to get him killed.

Ja'asper had known, from Ahlice, that training Ga'arret would prove to be a difficult task. He'd accepted anyway because honor dictated that he should. Though they shared no blood, he and Ga'arret were both Me'atal and Ja'asper had a duty to make sure the younger boy could survive outside of the protection of the Alliance. Only Ga'arret didn't seem to share this ideal and was now the most difficult student Ja'asper had ever trained.

To prove his point, Ga'arret lets Ja'asper's hit land on his shoulder and falls onto the training mat with a low _thud_. He winces and looks up at Ja'asper with icy blue eyes similar to his own.

Ja'asper sighs, crouches beside him. "Fight for something," he says. "What do you fight for?"

"What do _you_ fight for?"

Ja'asper's answer is obvious and immediate. "My mate. I would kill for her." He peers at the younger Me'atal. "Who would you kill for?"

Ga'arret hesitates, as if the answer is a trick. "Kaitie," he says finally. "For her I would die. For her I would kill."

Ja'asper's mind flashes to the delicate-looking Noh'med hybrid, the one who ate electricity as Astra described it, and nods. "And if I were to attack Kaitie, what would you do?" he asks as he helps Ga'arret stand, their silvered joints glinting in the low training room light.

Ga'arret swallows, expression hardening with Me'atal rage and protection. "I would kill you."

Ja'asper smirks, rolls his shoulders. "Prove it."

Ga'arret's next blow to Ja'asper's left side is strong and unfaltering.

All Me'atals need something worth fighting for.


	48. Outtake 8

**Outtake 8**

Astra stares at the blank screen of the ended transmission. It has been sixteen years since her first mission aboard the _Nova_ and the hellish experience with Ed'vard; in the following years, she gave birth space side to two truly remarkable children and remained happy with her _t'hy'la_ for the majority of that time, away missions notwithstanding. Life in space has been everything she thought it would be.

"Eden is so secretive about her work," she says aloud, knowing that Khai can hear her from where he is perched with a Pad on the low couch in their quarters. Though Astra has just ended a video transmission with their daughter, Khai remains in contact with Rhydian via messaging, likely talking about the nuances of whatever discovery the Alliance has made recently. Astra likes to tease him and call these interactions "father-son bonding", which Khai dryly denies frequently.

From the couch, Khai merely replies, "Befitting her position."

Astra spins in her chair. "I worry, Khai. Each year that passes without mention of Orion, the boy I told you visited me during my time as Ed'vard's prisoner, I wonder if we have done something wrong."

It has been a plaguing worry, one that began to grow through Ed'vard's trial with the newly-merged Alliance, a joining of the Federation and the Republic, and a worry that has grown since. She often thought about Orion, the maybe-time traveler, and who he could have been speaking about. Logical conclusions had all led her to Eden, but Eden indicated…. _nothing_. Her daughter, brilliant with single-minded intensity just like her brother and father, was unusual even by Astra's standards.

Astra _knew_ deep within her bones that Allene would do something life-altering, something so important that she wouldn't be able to recover from it. Brilliance like Eden's was sure to attract trouble.

And each year that passed without word or mention from or about the mysterious Orion, the more anxious Astra became for her daughter's future.

Khai, though not understanding the complete depths of this concern as he had not experienced what Astra had with Orion, pauses his communication, looking up at Astra with a gentle focus.

"It is illogical to worry for things that have not come to pass."

Astra nods. "Of course," she replies.

But still, she thinks of her daughter, of Eden who is so secluded and secretive, of her beauty and her intelligence, of her strangeness, and of Orion and his words still echoing in her mind after so many years.

And Astra worries.

She worries for them all.


End file.
